


Heaven Sent, Hell Bound

by pneumbe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crowley x oc, Dean x OC, F/M, Heaven Sent Hell Bound, Horror, Lucifer - Freeform, Pneumbe, Romance, Smut, Supernatural - Freeform, Suspense, mature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-04-29 02:39:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pneumbe/pseuds/pneumbe
Summary: The train ride of life was never an easy one for me, but I managed the few derailments and unpleasantness with determination. Until the Winchester's showed up, of course, causing life to come to a screeching, bloody halt. Now I'm wandering around the tracks, piecing the shambles of my life back together, with the brothers in tow. And a certain King of Hell trailing not far behind.(In progress, M for smut in later chapters)





	1. Prologue

 

* * *

Life never quite goes the way you want it to, but then again, you can't really rely on life for shit - can you?

You're taught from a small age how it's supposed to work, as you're groomed to be an acceptable member of society.

You're born, you enjoy your childhood safely and happily surrounded by your peers and your overbearing family.

Next, you then further your education after going through the shit hole that is public school and take a train to the nearest affordable college that you've dreamt of since you were a mere freshman in high school.

You meet your college sweetheart, graduate, and then get married. After that, you know what happens.

You live, you give life, and yours ends; the cycle still goes on just as well, even without you.

But if you're anything like me (sorry), then life has other plans for you. Not the kind of plans that are better than average, mind you. But the kind that makes you want to smash your head against a concrete wall until you become one with it.

As for me, at the ripe age of twenty-five, life had been slightly kind to me, I managed to graduate from college with flying colors. But if you were paying attention, you'll see just how "swimmingly" my life would really go.

My college sweetheart, Tim - all blonde hair, and dark amber eyes that could melt steel, turned out to be a college fuck boy. Someone had obviously kept me out of the loop of "how to keep a boyfriend happy"; evidently having one girl wasn't enough for Tim. Instead, he took his pleasure screwing around with some of my closest friends because I didn't agree with him getting in my pants the moment he asked. And then had the nerve to blame our break up on me! The rotter!

So my life was already straying from the path that was designed for me. The path that was designed for just about any normal person.

But I should've known right then that my life was going to be far from normal, right?

There was no going out into the world on my own after that, I couldn't. I was devastated after not only losing the (cheating, lying, rat bastard whoreson) guy I thought would be mine forever but also my (backstabbing) friends.

Life was just handing out the worst cards to me, which I had no choice but to take as it grinned innocently at me. I had told myself, after graduating and packing up all of my things, that I could get through a rough break up. I could find new friends, yeah? I'd already gotten a call about a job up north that I was more than happy to take. Things could look up for me, I had cheered myself with so much motivation.

Until the train began to wobble ever so slightly off of those carefully laid tracks.

While I was on my way for the interview up month, my father called me to come home, informing me that my mother was on her last limb from a battle with brain cancer. My knees shook as soon as the words dissipated from the receiver of the cell phone. How had they kept something like that from me? I screamed and cried at my father for hours on the phone. Why hadn't they told me? She'd look so healthy at graduation... and now...

_"She only has a few more months at best, Amelia... we didn't want you to be distracted from school. It wouldn't be fair to let you carry that on your shoulders while you had so much to do, sweetheart."_

I didn't believe for one moment that any of it could be true. I could feel the straps of a seat belt cutting into my skin as the train of life derailed further, carelessly cluttering down the wrong side of the tracks. I demanded that it stop and let me off - but the driver, life himself, only barked out laughter that was all but comforting.

With all of that behind me, I could've altogether skipped the rest of what occurred for the next few months. I helplessly watched my mother deteriorate once I'd settled in back home with them in the house I grew up in. My mother - my gorgeous, sweet mother did her best to keep a smile on her face with each passing day. Words could not describe the admiration I'd had for her since I was little, nor the love in my heart I felt for her. That's why it broke me so hard to watch her fight so hard to stay with us. I knew it was hard on her, I knew that she was struggling to stay happy.

And then the drinking started. My father was nothing short of a drunk now, miserably attempting to cope with his wife's my parents, both a train wreck all of their own, kept themselves busy with that, I took to working at a local diner to keep a steady income for them. The pills were piling up, and my father had an expensive taste in booze.

...Then the next thing you know, my mom was gone. Wrapped up in a shiny black coffin and dumped into the dirt forever. A slab of concrete setting over top of her grave with a short paragraph detailing what a wonderful mother she'd been, and a how beautiful, and devout a wife she'd been to my father.

I don't know what I expected to happen after that. The crazy train of life was already too far gone and headed into uncharted and morbid parts of the world that I did not even consider happening.

While my dad drank to forget, and to ease his suffering – I ignored everything. I could feel my emotions shutting down one at a time. I was going to be stuck here with my drunkard father, taking care of him until he would probably pass of liver cancer. Sure, I could've just left him there to die and to figure out how to get sober on his own and get past my mother's death. But I was raised to respect my parents, taught to love them no matter what especially when they did the same for me while I was growing up.

I could just mindlessly ride my way down the tracks. Just stare out of the windows and pretend that none of it bothered me until it eventually didn't.

Life would be just this.

But it wouldn't be… for long.

Once the Winchesters showed up, the train wouldn't just be headed in the wrong direction – it would be completely blown off the rails.


	2. The Beginning

_Routine, routine, routine_... I told myself that it kept me busy, and it kept everything in my life in check without any hiccups. The simple notion would at the very least keep me out of trouble, and with so many things to do who would have time to worry about anything else? No... that was wrong, wasn't it? Far back in the reaches of my heart, I knew that life was still missing something. 

With that thought though, I could've derailed my life once again. So I dismissed the general regard for displacing my routine, and began my morning the same way as every day with my "no-nonsense schedule". I wake up, half asleep and exhausted from a long shift working at the diner where I all but waste away, and silently weep over my untouched degree in economic sociology. I could be doing better things than serving tables at a sketchy diner every night! 

In this small hick town, however, there wasn't much other than this. My father had decided to quit his job to become a stay at home drunk, so it was up to me to make sure that bills were still getting paid, and booze still low on the shelf. It just broke me that my degree was going to waste here, another inconvenience that weighed down my tired soul.

The shower that comes after my mulling about, brings me back to life with each drop of searing hot water that hits my pale, ivory skin. I can't explain how marvelous it feels to wipe away the sleep from my body, rubbing it out of my dark, ocean blue eyes. I wondered sometimes if I could get away with just hiding out in the shower for the rest of my life. It could totally pass as acceptable to become a shower hermit, right? I had plenty of water, and I could bring snacks. But by the time I seriously consider the idea, the water starts to become frigid and cold, and I'm left to forcibly remove myself from its unwelcoming spray. 

Quickly drying myself off with a towel, in the attempts to warm myself back up, I continue with my morning. Standing in front of the mirror, I'd try my hair off as I wiped away the flimsy wisps of steam that had collected on its surface. As I wiped it away, I found myself, and boy did she look rough. Little bags had collected underneath my dark sapphire eyes, taking away from their shine. And as much as I tried to rub them out, they seemed quite permanent. I needed more sleep I thought to myself, realizing that perhaps the routine I'd been clinging to wasn't so healthy after all. Yet I couldn't let the occasional sleep deprivation get the better of me, and I'd have to persevere through it.

But I was never one to give up, even if the odds were stacked _staggeringly high_ against me.

I examined my face, high cheekbones that sat prominently on an exhausted complexion, and it dawned a straight-edged nose that I'd always been told was extremely flattering to my face. The feature in question was stained with fawn freckles that matched the few clusters of those that were on my shoulders. There were days where I would get lost in glaring at my face; my father reminded me almost every day how much I looked like my mother, Myra, even though I never did see the similarities that my drunkard father did. 

He'd sing praises about how lucky a man would be to have me. Of course, until I keeled over and died from a stinking brain tumor that was found too late, and in that moment he'd angrily sling an empty beer glass at the wall. It was depressing watching my father stoop to this. He was a good man, my father Patrick. He'd worked hard all of his life, every day with his hands for every penny he ever made. He took care of my mother and I, and so I found myself unable to be too sullen with him. It wasn't always too much to clean up after anyways.

He'd lost his wife, and mother to his child. They'd been together for thirty years, and she was all he'd ever known. The loss of my mother had destroyed my heart, and had left a gaping hole... but, it was hard to imagine with my dad was going through once she was dead and gone. He'd lost his best friend, and the woman he was supposed to live out the rest of his days with. A whole piece of him had been lost to a disease they couldn't control, and all he could do was watch in silent horror as she'd been buried in the ground, and left a widower.

I sighed and shook my head at the memory of that angry conversation, where afterward I'd tucked him into bed and give him his daily dosage of medication that helped with his blood pressure. I waved a hand at all of it, rubbing my face with exhaustion. I wanted nothing to do with any  _that_ kind of emotion right now - not the cold, hard reality that nothing good was ever going to happen to me again. That'd I'd be stuck here, taking care of my father for the rest of his life... I wanted to scream at myself for even lingering on those types of thoughts; I didn't want to break down, I didn't want to feel weak because of the crippling sadness left by my mother. My father did a lovely job of bringing all of that back to my attention most days. I didn't need to do it to my own self. 

Getting dressed is always the least favorite part of my day since now my father, Patrick, loves to criticize everything I put on. It wasn't out of the question for him to act like I was still an underage, unruly teen living in his house since he'd taken up drinking. It was hard to leave the house in anything that even remotely suggested more skin than was "needed".

" _You're going out in that? You look like a cheap whore!"_ His shrill, slurred words rang in my ears while I got dressed, picking out my outfit for the day. Sure, I knew that I, a grown woman, had the right to make my own choices when it came to clothes. But I couldn't stand the fighting between the two of us. I didn't want to make life harder than it needed to be, and something so trivial didn't bother me so much.

I've learned to dress somewhat conservatively, to keep that kind of confrontation at bay. I didn't enjoy picking fights with him any more than I would enjoy sticking my hand into a meat grinder.

So with that in mind, what I went with for the day was a lilac baby doll t-shirt that graciously flowed away from my slender frame, and gave a very light hint of the abundance of cleavage that I tried to hide. A pair of white jeans that came up just a bit above my ankles, that gave my hips a firm hug. I tied my hair up into a lazy bun to keep it out of my face, seeing as I'd probably be busy cleaning the house today for my father since he really made no attempt at doing so. Most days he was seated in front of the TV, with a beer or something stronger in hand.

I didn't have much to do, since I'd come back home from college, after my mother died. All of my childhood friends had already either moved or acted like I didn't exist. So busying myself with household chores, sitting with my father, and enjoying a book was my routine on my days off. All of this was just enough to keep me content.

It wasn't as if I were unhappy with this - there was no sense in having friends, or a real hobby. They would probably pry into my life, and try to tear down walls... walls that I wasn't really ready to have brought down. I'd rather keep the sledgehammers at bay, and let the wall do a bit of damage control on my already battered emotions. To be honest, I wasn't entirely sure how to cope with that happening, and I was more than scared to find out. Scared of what my emotions would cause me to do, and I worried that I'd act out against my dad and once again leave him heartbroken. 

I wasn't going to be that kind of daughter, I told myself, as I crammed those ideas back into their neat little corner behind the giant wall.

I took a step into the mirror, enjoying my ensemble and gave my reflection a small smile.

"We'll have a good day today." My reflection merely stood back and gazed at me, unimpressed with my lackluster sense of motivation. It seemed it'd been through this little charade before and was just as doubtful as she'd been with my previous sessions in front of her.

"No need to be a sourpuss, you and I both know I'm right. We've gotten this far, haven't we?" I scolded the reflection, this time not waiting for a response I'd never get as I turned back to the door. I slipped on my worn pair of black flats, and happily noticed my untouched mystery romance that had just been freshly brought, and took it in hand as I walked out of my room. I'd hoped maybe I would get a few moments to myself downstairs to read it after getting the house, and my father picked up.

It's about this time, after getting dressed, that I would typically hear my father stumble around in the kitchen for his morning coffee featuring a tiny hint of booze in lieu of cream or sugar. He'd holler for me from downstairs, wanting me to walk out and get the mail for him before cooking him some breakfast, which I never minded. My mother had taught me a few things about cooking, and it never seemed a chore to me. And at the moment, I could seriously go for a big fat breakfast. I wondered how hungry Dad was.

As I opened the door to my bedroom, book in hand, I froze. Something wasn't right.

It was completely silent in the house. No sounds from the kitchen, not even the coffee pot starting its brew. My father was a boisterous man, hardly someone that could skulk around the kitchen without bumping into something, or just making loud noises so that I'd hurry down the stairs faster. The silence that hit my ears was not a good sign, and my stomach turned over.

I set the book back down in my room, and crept down the stairs, listening as I did, and waited to hear my father cough or something to let me know he was around or at least maybe passed out on the floor. Something had to tell me he was okay - even if it meant him screaming bloody murder for me because he couldn't get the coffee machine to work ( _which happened more than you would think because apparently coffee machines are drunk proof_ ). I hated hearing him scream for me, but now I would've welcomed it. Even if my father was a drunk bastard, he was still my father. He was my responsibility. My mother wouldn't approve of me leaving him, and out of respect, I would keep my father going for her.

As I hit the last stair, I heard voices that didn't belong to him. Now my whole body froze, terrified. We didn't get a lot of visitors after Mom's passing, my family was well aware of the state Dad was in now. He wanted nothing to do with them and made it well known. So who was it downstairs now? 

" _So, you want to make a deal with the devil so you can bring her back?"_ This voice I did not recognize.  _Deal_ with the  _what now_? Had Dad let in a bunch of crazy cultist nut jobs while I'd been in the shower? Like the satanic version of Jehovah's Witnesses? There was no way he believed in any of that crap, and I knew it. These punks couldn't really make a deal with the devil, and bring back... who?  _Her_ _?_ The only thing I could think of is that they were referring to my mother... Had he gotten so desperate he was willing to let some devil worshiping idiots into our home in the attempts to bring my mother back from what... the dead? 

I poked my head around the stairs to take a look at the living room where the voices were quietly convening.

" _Yes, yes, yes – I'll do whatever it takes, please just tell me how and quickly. I want you gone before my daughter comes down."_ My father spoke, his voice shaky and it was obvious he'd already dipped into the booze this morning. I started to panic I as I realized perhaps these were a couple of punks looking to make some money and false promises with my dad. The two men that stood in front of him now, blocking my view of him, were tall and burly. They were dressed to the nines in expensive, dark trimmed suits. 

Who were these guys? My stomach was doing somersaults now, and dread washed over me. I didn't like this one bit. Who the hell did these guys think they were? Completely bonkers, obviously. And my dad was, too. Maybe after this whole ordeal, I would have to see about getting him mental help. Maybe a rehabilitation place wouldn't be such a bad idea. 

Another voice spoke, interrupting my erratic thought train,  _"You need to go here,"_ I heard the crinkle of paper, which I assumed belonged to a map. I couldn't see. This man that spoke had a head full of jet black hair, unlike his companion who was strikingly bald. I mean, to the point that you could see your reflection on his dome.  _"and-"_

Abruptly, to my right, our door came flying off the hinges causing me to take a step back and fall back onto the stairs. Luckily, I was well hidden from not only the burly henchman guys but the people that just magically showed up here. What in the hell was going on, now? Was my house just crazy people central? I was going to majorly grill my dad after this because this was a lot more than I was willing to deal with. I'd apologize to my mother later.

I covered my mouth trying to not let out a single sound of surprise or otherwise, as I dug into my back pocket for my cell phone. But dammit, I had left the sound on it, and even if I unlocked it, it would make a sound and alert them to my presence. Even now, if I moved from this spot, I would be spotted. And I wasn't sure if they would kill me... or worse.

My eyes never left the two men that came into our home. One carried a short knife, the actual blade seemed to be inscribed with words I couldn't make out. The other, the taller of the two, carried a long, silver stick that was extra pointy on the end. Great. I was going to die here because that's what the fate train had in mind. "Let's make Amelia's life a living hell", I imagined fate, God, the Gods, or whoever was cosmically in charge was snickering at me. Obviously routing for me to mess up, and lose.

"I don't mean to interrupt, but, didn't your master tell you guys to stop trying to sell your goods door to door?" The shorter of the two men spoke – his face reminded me of a model and had cheekbones that I was pretty sure you could cut yourself on. His hair was a ruddy color, short, and to the point... oddly I wondered what it would feel like to run my fingers through them. I chastised myself for that thought; this was no time to get turned on my a (seriously, seriously) handsome stranger who could potentially be here to murder me!

The taller of the two had shoulder length, shaggy russet-colored hair, and where his friend's face was read with nothing but sheer potent sexuality - the tall one's was a face I felt I could trust. A face of a friend.

Murders, Amelia! I reminded myself. Okay - so, I was fawning over a couple of seriously good-looking guys. So what? If I was about to die, I might as well get a good ogle in before death shook my hand.

I watched these men from the little corner of the stairs where I was hidden. Albeit the attraction, my heart was racing now. All jokes aside, I questioned if these men were going to harm me or my father? Or maybe these ones were here to save us from the henchmen. I kind of doubted that. How in the hell would these two strangers know where our house was, and that there would be some weird henchman dudes here? Obviously, they were in cahoots. Two probably killed the family, and other looted.

"Winchesters." The bald one hissed angrily. "You need to leave."

Ah, obviously they were not friends, I noted. The way the bald one gave the two boys serious angry eyes was a pretty good sign there was no love between the four of them. So, maybe help was actually here? My heart leaped at the notion that everything might just be okay, and then it stopped beating altogether.

In an instant, the other man had his hands around my father's throat where he sat in a chair between them. He turned my father's head to the side signifying he was close to the movement of snapping his neck.

I tried to breathe, watching these two sickos taunt my father with death. I hadn't been here with my father as much as I had, and taking care of him for them to just... end his life. I loved my father, and I wouldn't let that happen. I wasn't about to let the last almost year mean nothing.

Without another thought, I gathered myself as quickly as I could and jumped out o my little hiding spot until I was directly between the Winchesters in front of the door and the men holding my father hostage.

"Get your grubby hands off of him!" I screamed. And then it donned on me... what the hell was  _I_ going to do? I had no gun, no weapon, and by the time I would call the police they would've already had my father and I buried in the backyard. Oh god, sometimes I really did have my moments were I was just flat out stupid.

_Crap almighty, I just screwed myself._

They didn't seem shocked by my sudden presence in the room. If anything they seemed annoyed that I had interrupted their little get together. Even the men behind me where the door once stood seemed kind of ticked that I was even breathing. They just all stood there looking at me as if I were an unwanted pest. Perhaps they'd been able to read my mind about being pretty much useless in this situation. Or I was just another witness... or liability. I mentally screamed at myself for being the dumbest human being in the whole of creation.

"Hey, hey." The taller of the two men, who had broken the door down, stepped forward and grabbed my arm, pulling me back to stand beside him and his friend.

"Let me go - they're going to hurt him. We can't just stand here." I turned to look up at him, and I could hear the pain and fear in my voice. I sounded like a pathetic little child.

He said nothing, but his grip was hard on my arm and it was obvious he had no intentions of letting me go anywhere near the men who were close to murdering my father in cold blood. I looked at the tall one again, and wondered if he was he protecting me? Or just going to kill me right then and there? But the look on his face was friendly and almost protective.

"Don't worry," The bald man boomed from across the room. He gave me a wicked, toothy grin, "We'll get to you next."

And with that, the black-haired brute never took his eyes off of me as he twisted my father's neck.

A pained moan left my dry lips as I watched my father, the man I'd be desperately trying to take care of for the past eight months went limp in his chair. "No, no, no, no!"

The sound of his neck crunching replayed itself over and over inside of my head. Oh, God, I thought I was going to be sick.

How in the hell could someone just...

My heart pounded so loud that it filled every space of sound in my ears. All I could hear was my heart frantically screaming at me, along with the crunching of bones... I couldn't hear anything other than my world spinning, and crashing down right over me.

I had to get to him - my dad - I had to help him somehow... he couldn't be gone, right? All this was, was a seriously fucked up dream.

The man who held my arm wrapped his arms around me as I fought to run to my father, to expose the falsehoods of the nightmare that was unraveling before me. But the man's cool hands pressed against my face as he attempted to bring my head up so he could talk me down out of the mental break down I was headed into, made me realize this was no nightmare. No dream. No sick fantasy.

It was real.

I screamed at the monsters who killed my father, and all they did was laugh. The other man next to me, the one that looked like a model, cursed and then lunged forward with the engraved knife in hand.

I was completely overwhelmed now, watching him leap at the two men in suits. I couldn't feel anything, I couldn't say anything. I could barely keep my thoughts together cohesively.

I watched the long-haired man's lips move as he spoke to me, but I couldn't hear a damn thing he was saying. The room was spinning, and my heart was ready to just give out.

Everything inside of my head went black.


	3. Careful

Everything remained black for the longest time inside of my mind. I wasn't sure how much time had really passed. Minutes? Hours? The only thing that came from the deep void was a loud humming sound that I couldn't explain. Maybe it was my head going into overdrive from the emotional trauma. It wouldn't surprise me. It was so hard to piece together my scattered mind... but one thing rang true.

My father was dead.

Now both of my parents were gone.

Oh, God, I wanted to throw up. I could taste bile in my mouth.

What was the point of existing now? I'd worked so hard to keep my father going, to keep a roof over his head and to keep him from completely losing himself. Being a parent to my own parent was the one thing that I had going for me that went well. And now that he was dead... and my mom... how could I possibly expect to go out into the world as a sane, well put together person? Twenty-five years old, and I was completely lost.

_So you want to make a deal with the devil?_

The words came back to me, circling around my brain like a buzzard. I couldn't wrap my head around what my dad was trying to get from those men. It sounded as if my dad was trying to find a way to get my mother back. But that was impossible... wasn't it? There was no way in this world that making a deal with the devil was a legitimate thing.

"Hey," A deep voice called for me in the black despair of my mind, as if wanting me to let go of it and come back to reality. I wanted to tell them to go away, I was somewhat happy in the dark albeit the awful thoughts that plagued me. Even if my parents were gone, and my life was meaningless, the darkness wrapped itself around me in an embrace that seemed comforting... I never wanted to leave it.

"Are you okay?" The voice continued to tug me out of unconsciousness's arms.  _Go away..._

Reluctantly my eyes opened, the light that greeted them was blinding. As I blinked away the glare of what I thought was the sun, my eyes focused on a man that was staring down at me.

"Where I am?" I asked aloud as I rubbed my head. I couldn't get a grip on what was going on. My tired eyes soon adjusted but I found that it was actually dark where I was, no light other than a few flashing outside of what seemed to be windows. My head was too foggy to tell what was going on, or where I was. Or who I was even with.

I could hear the hum of a car engine, which must've been what I was hearing in my head, and even felt a road rolling beneath me. I was laying across something leathery, and my head was obviously propped up in a lap. A comfy lap that I couldn't help but snuggle into as I consciousness was still escaping my grasp.

"I think she's really out of it, Dean." The man whose lap I was cuddling, chuckled lightly.

"Well you know, Sammy, some people can't handle what we go through on a daily basis. Give her a break, she just lost her dad. We of all people can understand that." Another voice came from the side of me, I turned and could just make out a set of shoulders and a head. The man, Sammy, went quiet after that and turned his head to look out of the window. It was hard not to notice the hand he had placed on my hip. It made me feel warm.

It was dark, but it was becoming more apparent that I was in a car as I started to become more aware and coherent. I was laying across a leather seat. I realized as I listened to the sound of the car that it was more than likely an older car, and I didn't have to be a car buff to realize it was a beautiful one, just by the sound of it.

"Who are you people?" I questioned as I tried to sit up, but now Sam's hand removed itself from my hip and now came down on my shoulder, pinning me back into his lap. A shock of horror raced through me as I was once again met with the thought that these men not might be the good guys. Even if they'd saved me from certain death - what would they do with me now?

"Take it easy, okay? I've never seen someone pass out as fast as you did... I'm Sam Winchester, and the guy up front is my brother, Dean." Sam spoke as his grip on my shoulder loosened. His voice was warm and oddly comforting.

"Where are we? Are you kidnapping me? I-" Momentary panic ensued as I tried to piece together what was really happening here. It was hard to tell if these brothers were even slightly trustworthy. Even though the one named Sam didn't want me to sit up, I did anyway, moving into the seat next to him. I couldn't help but feel a little down at the loss of touch he brought. It was reassuring, but only little to calm my erratic nerves.

Albeit the anxiety that was heavily wrapped up in my nerves, I tried to let my eyes finally adjusted better, the lights we passed as we went down the road were helpful so that I could make out Sam's face. He was staring at me with worry, not with anger or malicious intentions.

"We're not going to hurt you – if anything, we saved your life. Now can you tell us your name?" Sam spoke calmly and reached forward to take my hand, attempting to comfort me. My face flushed as he took my hand between his, but I steadied myself. I wasn't going to let a handsome guy get my nerves all riled up while the idea of being kidnapped still loomed in my fuzzy brain.

"My name is Amelia Maguire... who were those men, what did they want with my father? Why did they kill him? They were talking to him about making some kind of deal in exchange for my mom..." I blurted all of my thoughts out, my head was still spinning. None of what I said really made sense to me, and now these guys were going to think that I was probably pretty nuts. Not that they weren't themselves, probably - what, with showing up at my house with weapons and the intent to "save" me from the murderers in my home.

"Slow down, it's okay. This... this is a lot to take in, I know. Trust me. Just don't freak out or pass out again. I don't think I can take another scare like that... But those men back there, that were in your house, they were demons. Well, men possessed by demons. We've been hunting those particular demons for the last few weeks, and we're lucky we got there when we did otherwise something worse than..." He paused, rethinking his sentence before clearing his throat, obviously not wanting to hurt my feelings. "Than what had happened. They were trying to make a deal with your father, who wanted to get your mother back. In exchange for that, they would've tricked him into giving them his soul."

"Demons? Souls? What?" Okay. The train I talked about before? Completely off the rails now, obviously it was overturned in crazy town and there was no possible chance of rescue. So maybe I wasn't the one who was really nuts here.

There was no such thing as demons, let alone being able to sell your soul to them. What was dad thinking? That he could go meet up with some psycho freaks that thought demons existed in exchange for some magic mumbo that would bring my mother back? Hell, no. My brain was already back to spinning around, trying to keep up with the never-ending chain of nonsense. I needed a tall glass of something strong. I was seriously unable to really wrap my head around what Sam was talking about.

Those men would have killed me, though... if it hadn't been for the Winchester's. I did owe them a touch of gratitude for that.

Saving me from psycho killers or not, that didn't really put off the fact that they were telling me that demons existed or that they were the true explanation for those men, and these Winchester boys being in my home. It seemed more like those men were feeding my father a load of crap just so they could come in our home, kill us, and rob us.

Not make a damn deal with the freaking "devil" and give them his soul for all eternity.

_Christ._

Sam was about to speak and I cut him off, "I get that there was something really, really wrong going on there. I don't believe in demons, or whatever crap you think you're on to, but thanks for helping me when you did. I mean, I really do appreciate the whole life saving my life thing. But you guys have to be FBI, or something, right? That's how you knew to come get me? I'm glad I'm alive, but if you could please just let me go back home and so I can get on with-"

And now it was his turn to interrupt me. "There is no going back, Amelia. Those demons back there, we didn't kill them or even maim them. They left their hosts before we even had a chance to get rid of them. They know what you look like, and more than likely they're going to come after you. They'll either try to make a deal with you and take your soul – or just flat out kill you in cold blood. You're coming with us until it's safe for you."

"Wait, what?" It wasn't me that spoke, but the man, Dean, from up front. Unlike Sam, his brother had a deep, cold tone in his voice. Sam was obviously the more friendly of the two brothers. "You didn't say anything about her coming to stay with us, Sammy. That's not what we talked about. She's a liability. You said we'd get her informed, give her some money, and drop her off somewhere safe."

"Dean, no. We need to take care of her. We don't want her to end up like-"

"Charlie?" Dean said flatly. "If we keep her here with us, it'll be like Charlie all over again. And Kevin. And everyone else we've ever known and cared for. The less we care, the better." He finished curtly. I could hear his hands grinding against the steering wheel in aggravation. Wow, that really made me feel so much better about what was going on here.

"That's unfair, Dean. This girl has no idea- "

"She can stay for a week. That's it. And then she's gone, and she never calls us, and we never see her again. We'll show her what she needs to know, and get her on her feet... but I'll be damned, Sammy." Dean had stopped at a stop light now and turned back to look at his brother and I. His eyes lingered on my face for a moment before turning around.

What a jerk.

Sam sighed, obviously not wanting to continue fighting with his brother. I didn't even know what to say at that point.

Gee, thanks for helping me out back there and I really appreciate that you're just going to dump be on the side of the road with my finger in my ass?

What had I gotten myself into... or what had these  _Winchesters_  gotten me into?

I leaned my head on the window and closed my eyes, hoping that this ride would be over soon.

* * *

I had apparently fallen asleep in the car, and when I woke up, I was no longer faced with the darkness of a car, and thankfully, not a Winchester brother in sight.

For that, I was grateful.

I wasn't sure how much more energy I had left in me to ask them a million questions, or argue with them about what I was going to do after they decided to kick me out of their little "we kill demons" club.

I stretched, my body sore from sleeping in the car. I found I was laid out on a bed with some beige, scratchy covers tucked over me; oddly enough, despite the itchiness of the blanket, I was warm and comfortable. The lamp next to me which sat on a mahogany desk trickled in light around the room. A large door was seated across from me, and thankfully it was closed. I groaned and sat up, sleeping in their car had really done nothing for my poor back.

As I swept my hair behind my shoulders and pulled it back into a messy bun, I took a look around the room. It reminded me of a boarding school style room which struck me as odd. Where the hell was I now? Probably some secret underground lair where these weirdos took people to get them to join their cause.

Maybe it was actually as Dean said - they'd given me some provisions, and dropped me off in the middle of fucking nowhere. I sighed, which was seeming to become a habit, and realized that Sam probably wouldn't have let that happen yet. It seemed like he was hell-bent on keeping me safe, which I more than appreciated.

I'd rather be safe than dead...

And again, images flashed inside of my exhausted mind of my father's murder...

"What the fuck is happening to me?" My hands rubbed my face in exhaustion as I tried to replay the events of the past several hours cohesively in my disoriented brain.

This was far too much.

Way, way too much for me, in fact. Like I had been thrust into a paranormal mystery book where I had no idea what the _fuck_  was going on.

My hands gripped my face a little harder in frustration. I wanted to go back to my plan, which involved taking care of my dad until I could find a new life to start, like finding a new boyfriend who was actually interested in a real relationship with me; I wanted to go back to getting married and getting on with life... Not this crap where I get snatched up out of my home when my dad is murdered in front of my eyes...

But I didn't have the time to worry about that. Even if I believed nothing the Winchester's had told me, I needed to formulate a new plan. I needed to roll with the punches and survive.

I was always good at that, I told myself. And I could keep doing it now.

Happily, I noticed that there were two of my black travel suitcases on the floor. Grateful for this small fortune, I wondered, did they pack things up for me? More than likely it was just a few handfuls of clothes and personal items they had gathered up for me. But I'd worry about it later.

My first goal was to find out where in the hell I actually was.

After pulling the covers off of my tired body, I let my feet hit the floor. And hell's bells, that was a mistake. Cold concrete greeted them coldly as the flattened themselves on its surface. Maybe I really was in some kind of boarding school - or a bunker? There were no windows... so it'd be easy enough to believe this place was underground.

I stood up and went to the door, it was time to explore this little place of unanswered mysteries. Maybe there were even demons here, I joked to myself as my eyes rolled.

Demons.

_Right._

Okay, I had to admit that exploring this setting was a little fool-hearted, given that it was obviously a big place. The hallways seemed like they went on forever with so many doors and so many rooms that were exactly identical to mine, except they were devoid of any human presence. As I walked through the empty hallways, I could hear voices somewhere and I was one hundred percent sure that they belonged to Sam and Dean.

So they didn't just abandon me.

A wave of relief washed over me as I followed the voices, trying to be as quiet as possible to eavesdrop on their conversation. I know that listening in is rude, but when you don't know if the men you are with are the good guys or a couple of psychos yet, you're allowed to be a little ill-mannered.

_"A week isn't enough time, Dean. This poor girl just went through a horrible ordeal. Those demons weren't going to cut her father a deal, they were just going to kill him right then and there. Which they did. After, they would've gone after her. They were hunting for souls and trying to gip them out of their deals – you know that. Crowley has been working harder than ever to get his soul count to soar."_

_"A week is plenty of time, Sammy. Hell, most people we come across figure it out and get their crap together in a couple of days. It's not that hard; rock salt, holy water, devil's trap, exorcise. We don't need another liability. You don't think that the moment Crowley finds out we have someone here that he won't do his damnedest to grab her? Use her against us? He knows us well enough, Sam. Cut the crap, because, I'll tell you what. When he does, because he will, I'm not going after her and neither will you."_

I took a deep breath, letting all of that sink in. So much for helping me, I guess.

Dean really had it out for me, didn't he? I get that I wasn't his problem, but it was exactly like I had a big bright sign on my head that said: "please take care of me". I wasn't weak, and I certainly didn't need to be babied to get back on my feet. After everything I'd been through in life, and as hard as I had worked to persevere... I wasn't going to depend on anyone.

And certainly not a guy that thought I was nothing but a burden.

I felt the anger in me burning fiercely as I rounded a corner and found myself standing in the doorway of a room that eerily reminded me of a high school cafeteria kitchen. The rafters were high, and there were tray carts haphazardly scattered around the room. A large fridge sat on one end of the room, close to a sink and stove, where a table with a few chairs sat on the other side. Yes, definitely a cafeteria.

And I guess the men standing cross-armed opposite of each other were the lunch ladies.

Lunch ladies who could've passed for models.

"Are you done? If you want me to leave, I'll go. I didn't ask for you to take me in, and I certainly didn't ask for you to sit here and list all of the reasons why I  _don't_  need to be here." I grimaced at the shorter of the men, as I leaned against the door frame with my arms crossed. I was trying to quell my anger. I didn't want to argue with these men, in truth. But my emotions were a raging fireball now that I had no control over.

Dean met my glare, in an almost challenging way. His gaze never wavered as his lips were pressed into a tight line.

"Look it's nothing personal, Amy-"

"Amelia." I corrected him. I loathed being called that by someone who had no respect for me, let alone didn't know me.

The only person I allowed to call me Amy was my mother.

"Yeah, Amelia Bedelia, whatever." I rolled my eyes at him in vexation.

"My brother and I have been through way too much crap. We've lost people, good people, who didn't deserve it. Just like you don't. And every time we do, it takes a chip off of us. And there are people out there that would use you against us. Every moment you are here, the more you put  _us_ in jeopardy. I don't need the freaking king of Hell trying to use some stranger against me thinking that he'll get anywhere with it." He spoke with anger, as if I had personally killed each and every one of the people he'd been referring to. His words cut me emotionally, a ripple of pain surging through my chest as he spoke.

"You could've just left me to die-" I protested. I didn't ask for any of this. Much like me, the ball of emotions tumbling through my stomach was becoming unstable. I was trying hard to fight back tears, and to keep my composure.

I didn't want to break under pressure. But the weight of these mens' lives was becoming so heavy... how was this fair, I asked myself. For me to be caught in this mess?

"But we didn't, Amelia." Sam had intervened calmly, raising his hand to stop me. His eyes were warmer than Dean's. Just from a glance, you could see he wanted peace, and not confrontation. But behind them, you could see the scars of the life he and his brother had lived.

"We saved you because it was the right thing to do. And I am so, so sorry that this has happened, and I know it's a lot to take in. But what I think my brother is trying to say is that it's hard for us to take someone in, because more times than not we end up caring about them. And once that happens... we're stuck with you, for life. There is no letting you walk away and forgetting you. If you call, we're there. If you're in trouble, we're there. There's no questions about it."

Another deep breath flowed through my dry mouth. Perhaps I wasn't really hearing what Dean was trying to say. Maybe... Maybe for him, it wasn't easy to convey his sentiments in a more diplomatic way like Sam did. But even so, Sam's words hit me like a ton of bricks as they intertwined with Dean's. Of all people... I should know what it feels like to not want to lose a loved one.

Because when you do, it breaks you. A piece of you is lost with them.

The mess of emotions no longer fluttered about inside of me, but instead flooded past the carefully laid gates I'd created to keep them secure.

I slumped against the door frame. Mixing in with my already tattered mind frame, the events that passed in the last several hours were now crashing down around me.

I was so in over my head, and I needed to accept it.

These men were talking about demons, and the king of Hell. And even took it so far to talking about how they would or could possibly die over me.

How am I supposed to handle all of this?

And in that instant I was in tears, uncontrollable sobbing consumed me as the emotional flood gates finally burst, and my tired brain didn't care. I couldn't find the correct words for what I was feeling. Anguish. Grief. Exhaustion. Sadness.

In just a matter of hours, two "demons" and two devilishly handsome men had destroyed my life, and tore down the walls I'd worked so hard to put up around my own emotions. It was all crumbling down.

This is what I get, I told myself – I should've taken better care of my mother, of my father. I shouldn't have left for college, got wrapped up in some boy. I should've been there. And I wasn't.

Because of my selfishness, both were dead.

And here I was, virtually alone and being told that all I'm good for is getting these Winchester boys killed... that I was a burden. Like a lost puppy, they couldn't afford to keep.

"I'm sorry," I sobbed, tucking my head between my knees, trying to breathe. Letting the tears flow, and the ugly sobs escape from me, I found comfort in the act of all of it. Needless to say, it was almost therapeutic.

I hadn't cried since the day my mother had passed from the brain tumor. I didn't expect to be crying in a strange place, with two strange men staring at me. But to hell be with my pride, and sense of practicality. These guys wanted to get rid of me? Fine. They could. But right now they were just going to have to deal with my personal pity party on their kitchen floor.

Before long, I felt two strong arms wrap themselves around me, the sobbing pathetic mess that I was, and a head settled itself on top of mine. I was unsure which of them it was, but I found solace in the way their breath scattered across the top of my head, as they pulled me against their chest. I assumed it was Sam, and in all honesty.

The way he'd acted towards me since the moment he noticed me in my home was caring. It was comforting. He had an air about him that seemed almost nurturing, he was someone that only wanted to better others - like doing that would better himself. Perhaps he was the younger of the two siblings.

But it wasn't Sam's voice that spoke into my ear, but instead, Dean's.

"Look, I'm sorry. It's not you that has any reason to be sorry. It's all just a fucked up situation, Amelia. I know." One of his hands stroked the back of my head as it rested on his chest. I enjoyed the rhythmic feel of his chest rising and falling, the motion soothing my frayed nerves.

"Why don't we give it a week, alright? And see where you're at. We'll get you back on your feet. I promise... just... don't cry, alright?" His words were full of remorse as his voiced rumbled in his chest. As my mind set leveled a little more, I found that I was touched by his words, and his actions. Maybe I shouldn't have jumped the gun on disliking him so fast.

"Alright." Was all I could manage to say in between the broken cries. I just focused on trying to steady my breathing, but it in the end I ended up falling asleep against the Winchester brother who, until now, I thought was nothing more than a walking, emotionless statue.

But maybe there was more to Dean Winchester than snarky, hateful remarks.

Time would only tell, but only a week could tell so much.


	4. Rude Child

The first two days of my one week were spent by learning and preparing myself for the "supernatural" world that actually existed outside these walls. It was an odd thought, that while we humans went about our days there were creatures lurking around us in plain view. If they really were real, that is.

Sam told me that he and Dean would prefer I stay inside of this place until it was time to leave, or if I went out that I had one of them with me. I felt a pang of appreciation that they cared about me at least enough for me not to go out alone and possibly be killed.

But I guess that was more like common courtesy, wasn't it? I guess I would just go along with that. My mind was still a little wary of the Winchester's considering that they thought demons existed. Maybe this place, and these men, were just a made up figment of my imagination that had been conjured up by the lack of emotional stimuli. Was I really that bored?

I wasn't really sure that I could just make this horrible crap up, though. Especially when Dean had greeted me with, "Don't think its kindness – we just can't have attention brought to this place right now. Not with the damn King of Hell on our asses." After Sam had laid down the rules, he went back to being a cynical jerk, who I was sure got a kick out of making my blood boil.

I didn't think that Dean was ever going to lighten up on me. I was too preoccupied with why he was so cold to me to even bother asking who the "king of hell" was. The devil, maybe?

Who knew?

As for the Fort Knox look-alike man cave they lived in, I quickly learned that it was an old war bunker that belonged to an organization called "The Men of Letters", which they were now a part of. I actually enjoyed the bunker, to be completely honest. It was quiet - other than the occasional bickering between the two brothers about random nonsense that I didn't comprehend - and there were so many, many books to read, which kept the brother's from talking to me or me spurring off to ask them a million questions.

And they had Wi-Fi.

What wasn't to like?

Apart from studying, and just generally trying to keep my mind from getting bored, I was trying to wrap my head around the whole idea of "demons" and to make it even better, there were apparently more than just them out there. Werewolves. Shapeshifters. Leviathans… even angels and demi-gods. There was even a mother of Purgatory. Nice to know there were two separate kinds of hell for humans and monsters. Christ. If this stuff was real - I would actually be semi-terrified to leave this place at all. I would be beyond the word paranoid that every person I met was actually a monster in a meat bag.

"So if all of this is out there… does that mean that God exists?" I asked Sam one day while we were seated in the library. He and I had massive books sprawled out on top of the wooden table in the library. He was deep in thought when I asked, and barely looked up at me as he spoke.

"I would guess so. He's not really around, though. But he's apparently real. How else could we explain the angels and demons?"

"But does that mean the devil is real? Satan?" I placed my elbows on the table and rested my head in my hands as I watched Sam.

He paused reading for a moment and took a deep breath. He looked agitated, like I had just pressed my finger into a wound in his chest.

"He is," He spoke with a seriousness in his voice, tipping his head up to look at me. "I've met him." I could tell from his facial expression that he'd obviously done more than just "meet" him.

"You what?" I felt my eyes widen at that – how in the hell, no pun intended, does someone meet the devil? And live? "How are you alive right now – how did you meet him? What was it like? Was he a big scary monster or-"

"I don't want to talk about it." And with that, he went back to reading the book in front of him and refused to answer any more of my questions.

I bit my lip as I tried not to pester him any further with my questions. To him, it was all old news that supernatural beings lived out there. And the sheer fact that my long-haired friend said that he had met the devil... the look on his face when I had asked him sent a shiver down my spine.

I was starting to believe that I was now a player in a very dangerous game.

Other than sitting with Sam most of the time, engorging on all that was monsters and supernatural, Dean tried teaching me how to defend myself from said creatures.

"Have you ever fired a gun before?" Dean asked me quietly, as we walked up the iron stairs that led to outside of the bunker. We were going out into the woods where he'd set up a nice little shooting range for me to practice. But the way he looked at me as the metal beneath us clanged, had me flush with embarrassment as I realized, no, I had never held a freaking gun before. God, the smirk that was threatening to come out and play made me angry. His lips twitched as he already knew the answer, and I internally groaned. He made me feel stupid.

"No, I never have," I answered as we walked out of the door. I could tell I said it with a bit too much attitude, though. Why in the hell would I have ever needed to shoot a gun? I came from a tiny little town where everyone knew each other! We didn't swing our guns around and curse at people - or try to kill demons, for that matter. "Why did I ever need to before now?"

"True." He grunted, still hiding his smile as he hoisted a black duffel bag over his shoulder. I could hear the clanging of metal within it. I wonder if there was anything else in there asides from guns.

I was not prepared for how it would feel to leave the bunker for the first time in two days. It felt like I'd been in there for months, without fresh air or sunlight. I felt very dry without it. Would I get to try out one of those badass looking sword things that they had used the other day? Ah... maybe not a good idea, I thought to myself. I was little lacking in the "being light on my feet" department, and hand to hand combat would probably get me killed.

When we opened the door of the bunker, I immediately felt a rush of euphoria. Sure, I hadn't been in their little hideout for more than a couple of days. But I found myself missing the fresh air that was outside, along with the sun. I might've been pale, and burned easy - but the feeling of the sun was much needed to keep my feeling... sunny.

As the sun kissed my face, and a slight breeze brushed through the little tendrils of hair that had escaped the grasp of my ponytail, I was unable to help but relax, letting my head tip back and bask in the glory of the bright, hot sun. I closed my eyes and spread my arms and let the air caress my arms and hands, more than enjoying the way it felt. Although it was winter time, and the cold air raised bumps along my skin, I felt warm. The whole ordeal I had been through in the past almost two years seemed to drip off of me, as if melting away into a distant memory. I was free, here. Free of everything.

This blissful feeling had the idea of running away on my mind. I wanted out, I wanted to piece my life back together in my own way. Not by having to worry if there were going to be demonic creatures following my every move wherever I went. But I was beginning to doubt that everything Dean and Sam had explained to me was untrue. They were very genuine, and serious when they spoke of the supernatural beings they hunted. Was it even possible for me to last without them?

"It's only been two days – you act like we've kept you in a room for six months." I was interrupted by Dean's cold words, and it shot a pang of annoyance down my spine. Why was it that I could just not catch a moment to myself with him around? He had to ruin just about everything for me.

"I was snatched out of my home and have been stuck in a musty bunker with the two of you for the past two days. The least you could do is let me enjoy this." I opened my eyes for a brief moment only to cut them at him.

I heard him grumble behind me, and I ignored it. I just let the wonderful day consume me without a care in the world. I deserved that much. A little Amelia time was in order.

However, a few moments later I realized that Dean had walked off without me.

"Crap."

How could the bastard just leave me here? I have no idea where I am. Not to mention, he locked the door the bunker behind him and he had the key. So, there was no going back in. I don't think Sam would've heard me banging on the door all the way from his room where he'd been when we came out to practice. d

But I could take the chance to run…

Before I could even consider where to run I heard leaves crunching behind me.

"Dean?" I called out to him. Even if running did sound good – I had nowhere to go, and no way to protect myself if those things were even real.

No response, just silence. No more crackling leaves.

When I went to turn to look at where the sound had originally been coming from, it was too late. An arm had firmly wrapped itself around my torso without any intention of letting go, and what I assumed was the cold blade of a knife was pressed in against the skin of my throat. So, Dean was right. I was certainly not grasping the concept that I could get myself killed if I wasn't too careful.

I should've listened to him, instead of indulging in the sun, dammit. But it was too late for that. Now a stranger was only an inch away from ending my life.

The body of the stranger stepped in, to smoosh itself against me. I could feel hard plains of a very defined chest, and the hand around my torso dug itself into my hip. And then there was breathing, right next to my ear. If I wasn't terrified before, I was certainly ready to poop myself now. Ideas of how to persuade a deranged demon killer not to end my life ran rapidly through my head.

The lips next to my ear quieted their breathing, and I could feel them against the flesh of my ear, sending a shiver all throughout my body.

"You would be dead by now…" My mind went blank. That voice... it was familiar. Wait a minute.

Oh, he was not going to wish he'd ever messed with the likes of me.

I growled and tugged out of his grip and found myself face to face with Dean Winchester. The nerve of him! Scaring the hell out of me like that? Just for what, so he could make a point? I'd damn near pissed myself because of him.

"You son of a bitch!" Out of anger, my hand swung back, prepared to slap him, but he caught it in his hand like it was nothing. Good looking with fast reflexes. Jesus, this was unfair. How could I compete with this?

"Maybe if you weren't so worried about getting your tan on, we could've been started on your training. But instead, you left yourself here, vulnerable." As the last word rolled off of his tongue, his hazel green eyes looked me over. The glimmer in his eyes told me he was more than interested in the idea of me being vulnerable. I felt my face flush at the idea of him trying to take advantage of me, but that only made a smirk turn up on his lips.

But how typical was that? A spiteful man, a hateful man, spewing crap at me but still… somehow interested in the thought of getting into my pants. I wanted to flick him right in the middle of his beautiful forehead... and then I wanted to jump his bones right then and there.

I have to admit, I thought about it for a moment. Those strong hands exploring my body, roughly, and lips… everywhere. Something told me that Dean was a man of passion… and was very possessive. But I wasn't going to give into those feelings - I wasn't going to screw around with someone just because there was an air of sexual tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

His eyes searched mine, for what I wasn't sure, for only a moment more. He dropped my hand and gave me one more smirk that kept me standing where I stood as I watched him saunter off into the woods. "C'mon Amelia Bedelia."

I wanted a nice long slab of concrete to bang my head on for a good minute.

These boys are going to either kill me, or get me killed.

God damn. I told my prior thoughts to get a room and hurried after Dean.

Learning to shoot a gun was far easier than I originally thought – after a few tries, anyway. The recoil from the shotgun left me on my ass. Which of course, the older Winchester got a kick out of.

"Look, it's all in your stance." He spoke from the tree he'd been leaning against. The makeshift shooting range consisted of a fallen tree with beer bottles littered all over it.

"Yeah, yeah – I got that." I sneered at him, as I rose up from the ground, wiping off any leaves that clung to the pair of khaki Capri's I wore. I turned to him, with my hand on my hip, and the shotgun in the other, facing downwards. He made a gesture for me to try again, and I turned back around to our little shooting range. I propped the gun up and took aim. Surely this time I could hit the damn thing. I was making a fool out of myself, and it was starting to get on my nerves how funny Dean thought this was. Which is was not.

"Stop, stop." But Dean sounded more aggravated than amused. And why shouldn't he? He had a student who was crap at what he was trying to teach. At least he wasn't just standing there laughing, jesting how he wished Sam were here to see this.

The leaves crunched beneath him as he stepped forward. I could feel the heat of his hands even through my parka, and it was a nice feeling. It made my heart go into overdrive as he settled himself behind me, and began placing my arms and legs into proper position.

The thoughts of what I'd like to do with those hands continued to dance inside of my star-struck head. Woah girl, easy now. There's no reason to get hot and bothered by a little friendly contact. He's just trying to help you shoot the damn gun, and you're looking like you're in need of a bucket if you get any more excited, I mentally tutted at myself. Besides, there are other reasons we go into why we're not going to screw him, I continued to mentally shake my finger at myself.

"Now, when you shoot," Dean instructions snapped me out of my lustful, and also strange conversation with myself. I knew he couldn't see my expression at the moment, but I still blushed. Having him that near me while I was thinking about how I'd like to see what's underneath those clothes... "Brace yourself. It'll be like riding a bike." His hands lingered against me for a moment, his body pressed into mine. It was hard to think. But as he stepped back, I pulled the trigger.

The sound of shattering glass filled the air and I beamed ear to ear. I watched as pieces of a bottle gently fell down to the ground, and I was more than ecstatic. I was actually doing something other than sitting and reading a bunch of old musty books - I could actually be helpful now.

"Yeah, bitch!" Proud of myself, I danced around the cleared path that Dean had made.

"Don't get too excited just yet… you still have to worry about what you'll do with a moving target." His voice was once again cold, but I couldn't help but notice he was trying to hide a small grin.

* * *

 

"So you think you're a big bad ass now, don't you?" Dean poked me on the shoulder with his arm as we walked back towards the bunker. He had slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and was walking with a crooked grin on his handsome face. He made me blush when he looked at me like that, riling up all of those lusty feelings I'd been trying to abstain from.

"I don't know, I think I'm pretty cool if you ask me. Not bad for someone who just now got into the hunting business." I beamed back up at him, giving him a genuine smile. Since I had blown my first bottle right off the log, Dean's demeanor towards me had done a complete three-sixty change. He was cheerful and actually joked with me. There wasn't anymore animosity coming off of him, and I was glad of that. I didn't know how much more of moody Dean I could take.

Dean bit his lip, like he was afraid to say something, and continued to walk until we were met with the door of the bunker. I wanted to press him for what he was holding back, but when we opened up the entrance we could hear voices talking loudly from below the stares.

One voice obviously belonged to Sam, and the other... the voice was quiet, and almost seemed… lifeless. Robotic.

"I think I know where it is… and I would much like for you and Dean to go retrieve it." I listened carefully as Dean pulled the door closed behind us and locked it up tight. I noticed on the door there were several different symbols that I recognized as devil's traps, and other's I didn't. How many wards did the brother's possibly need to keep things out?

"Cas?" Dean pushed past me before descending the stairs and nearly knocking me over the railing. Yeah, all those good things I said about him? Screw that. All thoughts of roaming the bed with him immediately disappeared.

As I caught my balance and paced slowly down the stairs, I was met with the view of Sam standing opposite of a man with dark hair dressed in a tan trench coat with dark slacks. His tie was blue and vibrant - but the expression on his face was far from the likes of his tie.

"Dean." The man spoke, walking forward to Dean. Dean wrapped his arms around the man for a moment, giving him a hard pat on the back and stepped back to look at his friend.

"Where the hell have you been? We've been trying to-"

"I know, things have been chaotic amongst the other angels. But I am here now." The man known as Cas turned to me then. His dark, dull eyes met mine as he spoke again, "Who is this?"

"This is Amelia – Amelia, this is Castiel." It was Sam that introduced me to the trench coat man. I looked at Castiel, their friend. His facial expression was almost nonchalant, and he seemed like he was... constipated.

"How do you do?" I mumbled, quickly standing next to Sam where I felt safe. Who knows if this man was a crazy lunatic like Dean, or maybe even one of those monsters I'd been learning about? Sam said it was common for them to make allies amongst the Supernatural, and Castiel did give off that otherworldly vibe. But boy, I learned every time I thought I knew something... that I didn't.

"Does she know?" He asked, his voice was so plain that it actually made me a tad annoyed. What was wrong with me? I didn't just go around getting pissed with a person for their looks. Apparently being a hunter now made me judgmental as all hell.

"Yes, we saved her from a couple of Crowley's henchmen," Dean replied.

"Amelia… Castiel is an angel." Sam turned to me and motioned to the man. I stiffened when the word was spoken. An angel? Yeah. Okay. No wonder I didn't like him, I didn't enjoy being lied to about someone's identity. Castiel just read to me as another person who might've just had a stick up their ass.

"An angel? I still think you guys are full of crap. Where's his harp?" I inquired incredulously. Dean kind of smiled at the remark as I looked Castiel over again, still keeping my head level with the idea that this supernatural crap was all fake and I was just being held hostage by two lunatic brothers with nothing better to do.

"Harp? Ah... Do not look so skeptical. I am an angel of the Lord. I promise you, I am as real as you are. Just with a few extra skill sets that no human could ever hope to possess." Was that arrogance I heard in his voice? Okay - so maybe I wasn't wrong in immediately not liking him from the start.

"I'll believe it when I see it." I shrugged. "I'm going to go take a shower. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Angel."

With that, I walked out of the war room and headed towards my own room. But I stopped as soon as I knew they couldn't see me and waited, seeing if I could hear anything from them.

"You took that… rude child in?" It was obviously Castiel that said this. Yeah, fuck you angel prick.

"She didn't have anywhere else to go, Cas. What were we supposed to do?" Bless Sam and all of his plaid shirts. I was really surprised that he stuck up for me much as he did. He was extremely compassionate.

"I was against it, for the record. But… Cas, she's not in a good place right now. She just lost her father to a couple of no good assholes. We took her in and are trying to at least trying to look out for her. She's probably going to stay with us for a while. It's not safe out there for her yet… and she's growing on me. You should've seen the way that girl took so quickly to the shooting range..." Wow, it was Dean who spoke now, his words full of admiration. He wasn't going to just turn me out like he originally said he would. And I was growing on him… that brought a smile to my face and made my cheeks flush.

"Just do not put her before the greater good, like you idiot humans usually do. Which speaking of the 'greater' good… I think that I might have found the demon tablet…"

I barely paid attention to what the "angel" Castiel was telling them as I sauntered down the hallway.

I was growing on Dean… I prayed to God, if he did exist, that I wasn't going to start having feelings for that jackass. From what I had experienced with Dean over the past two days... he was a fierce person. And whatever feelings developed would only match far beyond that passion and fire. It would be impossible to repress them.

* * *

 

Fresh from a shower, I felt wonderful. I'd accomplished a bit of training, and hit the books hard today. I knew just about everything there was to know about demons and shapeshifters - Sam had said that those were the most common supernatural beings that they would run into. I had to admit that I honestly I'd rather just avoid meeting any and all of them.

Hours later, I decided to wander the halls of the bunker. I was far more than just bored, and I was feeling a little adventurous. Not only that, but I was craving something I hadn't had in a while. And I was hell-bent on getting it. My bare feet barely made any sound as they padded down the halls. I was dressed in a t-shirt and boy shorts and hoped that both boys were asleep or at least tucked away in their own respective rooms. It wouldn't be exactly enjoyable for them to catch me while I was scantily clad. I had a feeling that Dean would be more than thrilled at the sight of me.

I enjoyed how cool the floor was against my feet as I walked through the halls, trying to seek out the kitchen.

"Aha." I grinned as I found what I was looking for. Even though I'd been living here for almost three days now, it was still easy for me to get lost in this enormous underground bunker. It had as many rooms as a millionaire mansion. The kitchen was certainly a sight for sore eyes.

I strolled over to the large fridge and stuck my head in, seeking out a cold beer.

"And what do you think you're doing?"

I jumped, hitting my head on the top of the fridge.

"Goddammit, you could give a girl some warning." I rubbed my head with one hand, and a cold one in the other. It was Dean who stood in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the frame with an eyebrow raised. Damn that man, the amused looks he continuously gave all day made me perpetually red in the face.

"I'm getting a beer." I raised it up in his direction, and then grabbed the top of the beer with my shirt and twisted, opening it up.

"Aren't you a little too young for that?" He queried, stepping forward as if he was going to take the beverage from me. I probably would've bitten his hand off. He ruined my sunshine time earlier today, and he was not about to ruin my quest for intoxication.

"You never even bothered to ask my age." I spat at him as I plopped myself down in one of the chairs at the table. Come to think of it, they really never asked me any questions at all. I wondered if they were afraid to ask and upset me, or if neither he nor Sam were really interested in me. I was just an extra hand to them. I mentally shook my head to that - I knew damn well that these men cared about me as a friend. I wasn't here only for their benefit.

"Well, go on me." Dean considered sitting himself down opposite of me but instead prowled over to the fridge to grab himself a beer, and only then took his seat next to me. I was a little too aware of the fact that he was now staring at me, and I mentally screamed at myself for forgetting about my lack of clothes. "What are you? About twenty?" Here I was getting drunk in the Winchester's kitchen with little to no clothes on. I scooted a little in my chair, pulling the shorts down a bit so they would cover a bit more.

"I just turned twenty-five a few months ago, jackass." I sneered, taking a swig of the beer. It was cheap, and almost foul tasting. But I needed it. It would help me from feeling too self-conscious while talking to him. Which was almost impossible to, considering the way his warm eyes sized me up, lingering on my thighs and then my lips.

"You certainly don't look it, Amy." He tipped his own drink back before setting it down on the table and resting his arms on it. The way he sat in the chair was nothing but manly. His legs spread, damn did they look good in the faded blue jeans he wore. His arms were braced back against the table, and he wore a thin black t-shirt that perfectly outlined each and every muscle of his torso and arms. Arms that made me wonder what it would feel like to have them wrapped snuggly around me.

"Ameli-" I went to correct him, but only did so halfheartedly.

"Yeah, yeah. Amelia Bedelia."

I was done ogling him now, that was for sure. What a complete asshole. How could I ever think that there was something nice about him? Or think that I could possibly have feelings for him?

"Are you always this impolite?" I turned to him, setting my beer down on the table and placed my elbow down on the table to rest my head on my hand.

His eyes met mine, and he let out a heavy sigh that relaxed his broad shoulders.

"Only around pretty women." He sent a breathtaking smirk at me, and my face flushed. This man was all but impossible.

But the smirk subsided and his face dawned a more serious look.

"No, and I'm sorry. You have to understand, Amelia – my brother and I… we've never had it easy. I get that you don't believe in what me and my brother do for a living… but we've been doing it all our lives. We know what it's like to lose loved ones. Even parents. It's a hard thing to let someone into our lives. We don't want to watch them die because of us, and we don't want the pain and baggage that comes along with it. Don't think that I hate you, or I dislike you, or want you gone. I just need you to understand that I'm a jackass." His voice was full of sadness, and it showed on his face. The lines on his face seemed to tell a tale of an old man that had lost his way and lost more than anyone in this lifetime should.

I never stopped to think that maybe he was this way because life had taken an unexpected turn just like mine had; that his trail derailed just as hard as mine did. I'd been so selfish over the past few days, I didn't bother to ask how either of the boys were doing. Dean probably thought I was an ungrateful wench that was just using them so I didn't get killed. I sighed in turn, just as he did, and cocked my head a little as I looked at him.

"Thank you." I met his eyes again.

"For…?"

"Taking me in, when you and your brother couldn't possibly handle it. But I promise I will do my best to take care of myself so the two of you have nothing to worry about. I still barely believe in this hocus pocus crap… but I will try." I sat back in the chair a bit, and my hand reached out to touch his arm. I was, in fact, grateful that these men had come into my life and saved me when they did, even if I was reluctant to show it. I was still learning how to tear my emotion proof walls down.

"I've been a hard head the past few days as much as you-" Before I could get another word out, his hands cradled my face in them and his lips came crashing hard against mine. His lips were hungry, and the kiss was urgent; he tasted like alcohol, and I realized that he'd only come in here to get another one and he wasn't just now getting drunk. Albeit knowing he was probably intoxicated – I found myself melting into his kiss, letting his lips take over mine.


	5. Adonis

Nothing hindered me from allowing my lips to dance with Dean Winchester's. They were hot, and fiery, albeit the taste of the cheap beer that deluded his breath.

Which of course, slowly began to derail the "have some fun with Dean" train.

I wasn't the type of girl who just let drunk men have fun with her because it was just a whim while intoxicated. However, the idea did flicker across my hot and bothered mind. What I wouldn't give to have an hour (or possibly three) with this incredible man in my bed. Hell's bells, I wasn't sure if I would be able to control myself. But I had to, for my own morality.

Not to mention, I had a dirty little secret of my own that prohibited me from just putting it out to every Tom, Dick, and Harry that made me hot and heavy…

My virginity was still very much intact.

Like I said, letting this Adonis-like man have his way with me was something that was very much on my mind. But the sheer fact that he was intoxicated completely made me uneasy.

However, it didn't seem like Dean was drunk. He seemed level-headed and knew what he wanted.

Which was apparently me.

My hands tangled themselves in his hair, tugging on it gently, my thoughts of telling him no seemed to slip right out of my disheveled brain. What was the harm? It wasn't like I wasn't falling for this ruddy haired jerk. I could at least do this – let him kiss me, let him touch me, let me melt into him until I was nothing more than a puddle of molten desire.

Before I knew it, Dean picked me up right out of the chair and seated me on the table, wrapping my short legs around him as he continued to probe my lips with his own. My hands left his hair and fell to his shoulders, and god damn, those were some nice shoulders. I couldn't help myself as I felt them up; I was at least allowed to appreciate beauty when it was underneath of my own two hands, right? Because the way they felt underneath of my hungry hands did something quite nice for my girly parts.

I wasn't oblivious to how attractive Dean was. You'd have to be blind to not acknowledge how sexy he was. Albeit shorter than his brother, he was strikingly handsome. I imagined if he wasn't a "hunter", he could've passed for a supermodel.

His hands slowly trailed down my waist, finding their way beneath my shirt to hold my bare hips. His fingers dug into the flesh of my hips as his lips parted against mine, and his tongue slithered out to brush up against my lips. Like someone knocking on a door asking.

" _Anyone home?"_

 _Hellooo..._  My lips willingly parted against his, letting his tongue play with my own – it was impossible to fight him. The heat that emerged from his mouth claimed mine, and our kiss dissolved into sheer, unadulterated passion. My body was completely melted against his, and my hands grasped for more of him.

His hands that once rested on my hips began to scale up my midsection, obviously in search of something. My face flushed a soft red as I realized I wore no bra underneath this t-shirt. There would be nothing that would stop him from getting what he wanted.

So perhaps it was a good time to stop him here before things got too carried away. I wasn't entirely sure if I would be able to stop myself. Even if the notion of letting this man have me in any way he wanted, the idea that I barely knew him and that he could discard me like nothing the next day plagued my mind. And falling in love with a man like that, and giving everything I have left to him… It would be a mistake. I'd done it once, and I'd never do it again.

I was already hurting enough, and I'd be damned if I got myself into a situation with nearly no escape.

"Dean…" I began my protest, pulling away from him.

I don't think that resonated as a sign that I wanted this to end. His body went rigid, and his lips opened and engulfed me with their heat.

"Amelia…" God, the way my name rolled off of his tongue sent me into overdrive. I was going to need all of my willpower and more to stop him now.

His lips parted from mine, and he planted his hot kisses down my neck. His teeth tugged at the base of it, and I swear I was close to falling apart then and there. In the midst of teasing my neck, his hands finally found what they'd been looking for. They instantly began grabbing handfuls of my perky, round breasts, squeezing them firmly.

"D-Dean… please…" How was I supposed to even think straight with this? I'd been involved in foreplay before - hell, I knew what an orgasm was, and had experienced it a time or two. But this was unlike anything I'd ever imagined.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

I was trying to find the words to make him cease, but I couldn't get them out. I could feel his own arousal against my thigh, pulsing beneath his jeans as it rubbed up against me.

A set of fingers teased at a hard nipple, and the other hand suddenly disappeared from where it'd been so closely latched to my other breast. It instead went to rummage around my panties, a finger brushing up against the outside of my core pressing the fabric in gently, and teasingly.

 _Jesus Fucking Christ_  – there was no way I was going to make it. My lips refused to move as that damn finger continued to rub and tease against my panties, right over top of my clit.

Okay, that was it, I couldn't take much more. If he continued to seduce me with his fingers dancing around my happy parts like that, I was just going to throw caution right to the wind and give into the desire that made this whole cafeteria hot.

Keep it together, I told myself. I could do this. I could say no.

And I would.

Okay. Deep breath.

"Dean we have to stop." My words came out fast, and heavy as I managed to find the strength and self-control to be able to push him back, letting my legs fall away from him. I scooted back on the table, trying to put as much distance between me and this ridiculously attractive man.

He looked at me, with an eyebrow raised. "Why? Things were just about to get good." His voice was husky, and now unhappy as he looked at me with annoyance. Yes, I did just stop him from his major (extremely nice) grope fest. But this wasn't just all about him. He seemed mildly astonished that I told him to stop as if no other woman in his life had ever done so before. And I could believe that. If I weren't so gung-ho on my morals, I would just let him do what he wanted with me on the table. I wouldn't have cared.

But hopefully, I wouldn't damage his ego by doing this.

"I… I can't do this." I ran a hand through my hair, trying to figure out how to explain to him that this wasn't going to work – at least not now. I wasn't going to just part my legs like Moses did for the red sea just because he made my knees go weak.

"Why?" He took a step back, crossing his arms with his eyebrows still raised. I had to keep my eyes away from the bulge in his pants that was literally like a neon sign.

_Touch me! Give in - you know you want to._

I took another deep breath, exhaling sharply before picking up what I assumed was my beer, after all of the groping business I'd forgotten who's was who's, and took a swift swig of it before belting out, "I'm a virgin."

Dean was silent after I said that, and I could feel my entire face flush red from the feeling of embarrassment for giving away a well-kept secret. It was the reason my relationships in college never stuck. I didn't want to lose my virginity to someone who it didn't mean anything to. I never wanted to just give it up to someone who was only looking for a piece, especially one that could find it somewhere else while dragging me along.

"You've got to be freaking…You're not one of those 'I'm waiting for marriage' types, are you? If so, we have nothing more to do here, sister." It was his turn to grab his beer, but he didn't just take a sip, he completely chugged it down before setting it down back on the table with a loud clang.

"No, no- not at all." I shook my head, looking up at Dean.

God, I bet he thought I was some kind of freak now. I'm sure all the women he'd ever been with were more than willing to give him what he wanted and were experts at it. But here I was, a shaky, weak little virgin at my age… I shouldn't have stopped him. I should've just kept going and we wouldn't be having this conversation. But he would've taken notice of that fact when it was time to get down and dirty, and a little wall would block him from his mission.

"I just… I don't want to give it to someone who it means nothing to. Do you get that? You could have sex with me, here and now – and it would be fantastic. Don't think that I don't want to do that… because trust me. I do." I gave him a half smile, and my knees stiffened a little as I realized my desire was probably all but apparent against my thin panties. But his face remained the same with aggravation painted all over it, and never once paid attention to the little moist spot.

I sighed, taking another sip of my beer.

"We could do that… and it could mean absolutely nothing to you. You could go on with life, be with this girl or that girl without a care in the world. I'm not trying to have my first be with someone who couldn't care less about what I've given him."

Dean rubbed his forehead for a moment but sat down next to me on the table. "You talk an awful lot, you know that? But I get what you're saying. I'm not trying to un-virginize you here, Amelia. I'll admit, you are an… extremely gorgeous woman." He turned his head to look at me, his eyes soft. He placed his hand on my bare leg and smiled."But once I want something, I want it. And if I have to prove to you that I want you… then, I can wait."

"So you want me now? What happened to just a few days ago saying that you were planning on kicking me out?" I teased, bumping my shoulder into his.

"You've grown on me. Not to mention, I can tell you're going to be one hell of a hunter. And we could always use an extra set of hands every now and again. The way you made those shots earlier… you're my type of woman. I think that maybe I was a little pushy just now, and m'sorry. It's... been a while for me too, y'know?" Even his eyes smiled as he spoke to me, and I felt my heart flutter gently beneath my chest.

This man made me beyond weak.

Maybe this is where my train was meant to end up at. Even if these boys were both loonies, going on about monsters and demons…

Maybe I could really find my place here.

"You know, I really still don't quite believe in this whole 'supernatural beings are real' thing," I told him, finishing off my beer which had turned warm while we'd been fooling around.

"Well, I know we haven't provided much proof for ya'. But tomorrow, you're going out on a hunt with us." He informed me.

Oh goodness, an actual hunt?

"A hunt? Seriously? For what?" I couldn't hide the fact that I was at least a little bit excited at the mention of leaving the bunker… and to hunt. I was curious to know if perhaps these things were real or not. If they weren't, it could be possible for me to leave and dismiss these two.

But a part of me didn't want to stray away from them.

"Demons… some of the same ones that belong to Crowley. The same ones that killed your father. I thought that maybe you'd enjoy getting in on the action and feeling a little better about it. Not that revenge is really a good thing. But blowing off some steam isn't a bad idea."

My heart dropped when he talked of my father. I was trying so hard to bury that deep down in my mind so that I wouldn't have to think about it or deal with it. But he was right, there was no way I could pass up an opportunity to take down some of the goons that had ripped my life apart.

"Who is Crowley? You never told me."

"He's the King of Hell. An evil bastard."

"King of Hell? So is he Lucifer… or?"

"You've read the books, I thought. With Sammy. You know the story of what happened to Lucifer, right?" He leaned his elbow down onto his knee so he could rest his head on his hand while he looked at me.

"Yeah… God's favorite turned bad and was locked up for all eternity. I got that much. But I also know that he had gotten loose a few years ago… according to some of the things I've read. But it didn't say whether he'd been put back in his cage or not."

"Yep, he's still in there. Crowley is a powerful demon. A crossroads demon, with more power than an average one. He's been trying to strike deals with as many humans as possible… and tricking them out of the deals to take their souls. He's basically taken over hell, acting as if he were Lucifer. But not quite. He's a more mild version of him, but still dangerous altogether." His voice was so solemn. But I could hear the content in his words as he spoke about this demon.

The King of Hell… Not Lucifer. It was still impossible to wrap my head around this. But I would know for sure tomorrow if these demons were real.

"C'mon… it's time to hit the hay. You've got a long day tomorrow."


	6. Pray for Sleep

"Do you guys always go this far to go on a hunt, or?" I asked the two brothers who sat in the front seat of the Impala. I'd only ever ridden in the vehicle twice – but I had to admit, I was loving it. I enjoyed the feel of the ride as Dean drove it down a background through a county in which I didn't know the name of. To be honest I wasn't even sure what state we were in. It was hard not to love the feel and the smell of the smooth, rich leather that my hands touched, seated in the back of the car that Dean referred to as "baby". It was one hell of a car, and I wondered just how long the boys had it in their possession. The back of the doors seemed slightly worn, giving light to the idea that when they were kids they'd pulled on it and messed with it while taking similar rides as this one.

"You think that what happened with you was an isolated incident? That it only happens in small towns? Not so much. We've gone all over the country to bring down any kind of supernatural creature. Ghosts, demons, shapeshifters, vampires." Sam sounded indifferent as he looked at a map in his lap. It seemed as if he'd given this spiel a few times before. It didn't seem to bother him.

"Vampires are real, too?" I shouldn't be so surprised, given that every other creature they had mentioned seemed to be real too. But maybe it was just the way media had portrayed vampires. They were more like sparkling, teen lusting immortals. But, apparently, that was not so.

"Yeah, but they aren't what you think. No two little fangs, these things are true monsters." Dean replied while turning the wheel to take a sharp left. He hadn't said much since the night before when we had gotten all hot and bothered.

This morning he had Sam come tap at my door around five AM to let me know we'd be shipping out in an hour. Also, that I should wear something warm. I wondered at the time if now that Dean had become sober, he'd regret every single thing he'd said before we'd gone to bed. Maybe he realized the things he said about wanting me were untrue and were just from the heat of the moment. How could he know that a woman he'd only known for a few days was what he really wanted?

I shook my head now, and I pursed my lips as I steadily began to question why these men even did this hunting thing in the first place. What did they really get out of hunting down monsters and almost getting killed every time they did? That was if these creatures truly did exist.

"Why?" The thought had become a question, aloud now. Sam turned his head to look at me with an eyebrow raised.

"I mean, why do this? What exactly is the point of traveling everywhere forever and hunting these things down? Wouldn't you rather be settled down somewhere so you could have a life? You don't seem like you get paid for it, or get any type of glory."

"It's… the world doesn't have a whole lot of people that know about this sort of thing. Hell, I don't even know if the government is either oblivious to all of the crap going on, or they're secretly backing it. Somebody has to do it. If it hadn't been for us where do you think you'd be right now?" Sam answered, considering me for a moment before turning back to his map. I had to admit, the last statement stung a little.

But it wasn't like he was wrong.

I sighed, and ran my fingers through my hair, brushing it out of my tired eyes. I was used to being without sleep, but having been up only three hours prior to when Sam came to wake me, I found myself completely exhausted. Sleep had taken forever to come, as my thoughts had been wild with the events that went on between Dean and me.

But I managed to get up and rummage through the belongings the brothers had gathered for me when we'd left my home. It wasn't much, and I made a note to see if one of them would stop by somewhere and get me a few things so I wouldn't feel so hopeless. Amongst the things they'd grabbed was a faded pair of cut off blue jeans, a green form-fitting, long-sleeved shirt, and a light jacket. Luckily they'd grabbed a pair of my favorite tennis shoes.

I turned my attention now to the window, watching the trees and an odd field or two as we passed by. It was silent in the car now, and it bothered me. It left me alone with my thoughts over the past few days. It wasn't something that I wanted, so I laid my head against the window and sent a silent prayer asking that sleep would take me until we arrived.

But my prayer went unanswered.

"We're about fifteen minutes out." Sam broke the silence as he adjusted himself in his seat to turn and look at me again.

"Okay, so run me through this again." I sat straight up so that I could focus, pushing the sleepiness away.

"So we have word that there are a bunch of demons lurking about in an abandoned house. We think that they're up to something, or protecting something. We're going to sweep through and see what's going on."

"Okay, sounds good… but I thought you couldn't outright kill these demons?" I asked, knowing that they only carried certain weapons that only did a minimum amount of damage.

"The ammo that we've loaded up has an extra amount of salt and holy water infused into the bullet. All you have to do is hit them with it, and it will knock them out unconscious. After that, we'll sweep through and either exercise or use the knife to kill them… are you sure you're ready for this, Amelia?" It was now Dean that spoke.

He knew that I was ready, the few days of training with him on top of the bunker in the make shift shooting range had proved that. He'd told me that I was doing exceedingly well for someone who'd never touched a gun in her life. So why did he question me? I mean, sure, I'd never actual hit anything with a gun that was flesh and blood. It was slightly terrifying to imagine hurting anything or anyone. But according to these boys, it wasn't like I was killing anyone innocent. I was helping to end evil in this world.

"Of course I'm ready." Was the only thing I said to that, not wanting to sound cocky or even sound weak. But I'm sure to him it came out as being the latter.

"If we tell you to go – you go and run back to this car and don't look back. We'll be fine. You take one of our cell phones and call Cas. He's in our contacts. Get to the nearest town so you'll know where you're at and tell him to get you. You do not wait on us." He was stopped at a stop sign now, and turned himself around to look at me. His intense green eyes bore into mine, as if trying to stress the impossible seriousness of this.

"But why would you need me to do that? You guys are more important, you said this was a minor job…"

"Like Sam said, we're not sure what's going on. But we've been looking for something that Crowley has been hiding place to place for the last six months. And with this much demon activity, we may have found it. They might be guarding it. If it comes down to it, I need you to take the damn thing and go. They're not going to be worried about you – you're nothing to them. But bringing the two of us in after we get a hold of what they have… they'll be more worried about it. I need you to promise, Amy." He looked me over for another moment before turning back to the wheel to continue down the road.

I couldn't help but glare at him a little bit for using my name incorrectly again. But what did it matter? We could all be dead before the day was done.

"Okay, let's do this."

* * *

_This was a bad idea,_ Dean thought to himself as they pulled into a gravel drive way. Why had they brought Amelia along? Sure, she had shown that she was a crack shot when it came to shooting at beer bottles on a log. But she'd never shot anything moving. Never shot anything living.

What if she choked?

She could get herself killed. Or worse. Get Sam and himself killed.

He had to shake off that thought.

Sam wouldn't have insisted on bringing her if he thought she'd be a liability. That and it wouldn't hurt to have an extra hand while trying to disarm the douche bags that they were after.

Dean couldn't help but also feel a pang of something that was slightly unfamiliar to him. If not unfamiliar, it was a feeling that had not touched his heart or emotions for what seemed a very long time. Possessiveness? Protectiveness? It was far too clear that he'd become somewhat attached to the woman in the seat behind him.

She was gorgeous, with golden hair that flowed down her shoulders and still managed to wrap around her face, clinging to it gently. He adored the freckles that kissed it. And as far as the rest of her… he wanted to touch every single inch of her. He was more than slightly distraught at the turn last night had taken. He savored the way her skin felt against his hands, the moans and little soft sighs that had left her feverish lips that he'd had to pry himself away from.

And what had happened?

She'd informed her of her all too inconvenient v-card.

Jesus Christ, of course, the one woman he was completely drawn to was a virgin.

But after she'd explained her little story to him, it was hard for him to get mad about it or feel turned off from her. He was known to sleep with women and then act like it was nothing.

It would be far from fair to her to just take away her innocent and leave her hanging. Because that's always the way he's been. He could never get too close to anyone at any time. Too many good women he'd seen killed or had distanced themselves away from him because of his line of work.

Maybe it was best this way, for him to back off. To not want her. To not think about how her perfectly perky breasts would taste in his mouth… he internally grumbled at himself.  _Down, boy._

Dean didn't think it was even completely right for him to have basically forced himself upon her like that either. It wasn't like him to be so aggressive with a woman, nor was it like him to try and just get down to business with a woman was going to be in it for the long haul so easily. Again, he could hear his own grumbling in his mind at what a jack ass he'd been acting like towards Amelia. Dean had to admit to himself that even he knew that he was throwing Amelia mixed signals out the ass. Yet, he told himself he wouldn't  _entirely_ back off of the hunt for Amelia. He would just ride the breaks, and exert some much-needed self-control around her.

He pulled the Impala half way up the rest of the drive before finding a good place to park it in between some trees where it wouldn't be visible. He settled the car and cut it off before exiting it. It was tiresome, he thought, the routine of going back to the trunk to pull out the weapons he needed to kick some ass.

It was always the same thing. Kill, kill, kill, kill. But if he didn't do it, then who would?

He thought back to the previous conversation between Sam and Amelia. The way she questioned their motive behind killing supernatural beings. Sam was right, of course. That someone had to put a stop to the evil in this world. But it wasn't like he didn't want to settle down with a good woman and have a life. He'd tried that before, and it hadn't ended well.

The hunt always brought him back.

"So, which ones for me?" Amelia chirped behind him as he was eyeing their mini armory.

"Here." He pulled out a small glock, which was packed full of rock salt and holy water. It would knock the fuckers out – not for long, but long enough to get what they were searching for and leave.

"So, by the way…" Amelia started as she cocked her gun and stuck it in the back of her pants like she were a natural. He couldn't help but a feel a pang of pride for how well she was taking all of this. Only days before she was a sobbing mess that wouldn't believe anything was real. But here she was now, with her big girl pants on. Ready to kick some demon ass.

"What exactly is it that we're here for?" She queried as Sammy came around to get his own things out of the trunk.

"The demon tablet."

She was of course, oblivious to what it was.

He sighed and slammed the trunk shut.

"Ready?"

"Ready." She nodded.

It was time to kick some demon ass... Well, that was Sam and he would. For a moment, he thought about simply leaving her in the Impala, where it was safe...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one was a little short - but I wanted to give more insight into Dean's mind, and I enjoy a little bit of conversation between Amelia and the boys ... Hope that you all are enjoying so far, and would love to hear some feedback!


	7. Dusk on His Shoulders

_"_ Oh, for the love of Pete. You can't be serious, right?" I placed my hands on my hip as I stared up at Dean. What a fool I was for thinking this man had even an ounce of confidence in me. Now he was spouting crap about how it wouldn't be good for me to go with them. The bastard.

"Oh, for the love of nothing, sister. You're staying put. If things go south, it'll be nice to know we have a getaway car." His voice was stern, and it did nothing but make my blood boil. I was ready to shoot up some demons, for Christ's sake! I was trained, and ready. Wow, I sounded pretty bloodthirsty right about now.

I took a deep breath and crossed my arms. "Fine. But only because I think I'm a little too emotionally unstable to go in there. I'll probably go a little too gung-ho and try to burn the place down."

"That's not what I'm worried about, I just don't want you to get hur-" He stopped himself, and shook his head. "We just need someone to be here when we're done." He handed me a pistol, and the car keys. "Now you be good to Baby. And don't you dare leave us here."

Without another word, the Winchester brothers turned heel and made their way up to their destination. Leaving me by myself… well, totally not by myself. At least I had Baby, since the two Winchester's just wanted to dump me all on my lonesome in the middle of a forest. The trees were high, and bare, and loomed over me menacingly. Not a sound graced my ears, other than the gentle hum of the Impala.

I turned and patted my mechanical companion with new found affection. She was a gorgeous car, and I felt a little excitement stir inside of me when I realized I was going to sit in the driver's seat.

"No need to get so excited. It's just a car." It was silly of me to act like a child, but damn did it feel good when I sat down in the front of the Impala. And it was nice to know that maybe I wasn't entirely alone.

As I clutched the steering wheel, my thoughts turned to what Dean said earlier… he was obviously going to say he didn't want me to get hurt. It was kind of an asshole thing to say considering that he had just given me the cold shoulder the entire way here. Was he really that mad at me for not giving him some booty? Trust me, I wanted it. God, I wanted to just push him down on that table and ride him like a bucking bronco…

But I wasn't without my morals or reservations. And he needed to respect that. I wouldn't just bend to his whim because he had a little black rain cloud hanging over his head.

Sigh, men and their egos.

* * *

It was probably an hour now that I had been waiting on Dean and Sam, and I was starting to worry. From what I could tell, these brothers were pretty efficient when it came to kicking some demon ass… so why had they been gone so long? What if something had happened to them? Things had probably gone to Hell in a handbasket. Dammit, I knew I should've gone with them. Screw being the getaway driver. I could've saved their asses.

"I'm not a poor defenseless girl who can't handle her own. Screw that." I told myself, trying to pep my bravado up. Sure, I was nervous about the idea of being a badass demon hunter like my new friends. But I could handle it…. Right?

I pulled the door to the Impala open, and grabbed the pistol, cocking it. I knew I'd never actually shot a living target before, but I knew I could help. If demons were technically alive anyway. As I shut the door to the Impala closed, a wave of something unnatural washed over me. I wasn't alone.

"Ah, and who might you be?" A low, accented voice spoke from behind me.

I immediately turned around and pointed the gun at a taller, somewhat burly man. Dusk had just set in, in this abandoned forest. The way the late sun-brushed against his stocky, but strong shoulders were beautiful, and the look on his mildly attractive face had my heart racing. I could barely speak, let alone move. There was something… that drew me into him. Whoever he was.

"I've been waiting for ages for you to come out of the car, my dove. Bloody Winchester's have the damn thing loaded with wards and protections." He kept his hands in the pockets of his dark, very expensive looking suit as he took a step forward, his eyes never leaving mine. As the leaves crunched beneath his dark, probably Italian made, shoes, his bright hazel eyes bore into mine and I was worried my knees were going to give out.

Keep it together, Amelia, I told myself. There was no way in hell that this guy was anything less than trouble. Who the hell just walks around in the middle of a forest for the fun of it? But he did mention Sam and Dean… was he a demon that killed my friends?

"Who the hell are you? Where are Sam and Dean? I swear to Christ, if you've hurt them," My hands held the gun tightly, and I kept it still as possible with sights against his head. One shot and he would be a dead man. A handsome dead man, I reminded myself. But, very dead. "Stay where you're at, or I'll-"

"What, shoot me?" He let out a low chuckle, pulling his hands out of his pockets. He spread them wide and smiled at me. "You plan to hurt the King of Hell with that pea shooter? I don't think so, dove." Amusement was rich in his tone as he continued to pace towards me.

"You… the King of Hell? Look, I might still be new to the whole 'demons are real' thing, but you look far from what a king is supposed to look like, dude." I gestured to his whole self with the pistol. I didn't really quite understand how someone who claimed he was the king of the depths of Hell would parade around looking like a mere mortal. Wouldn't it be more logical to look like a big scary creature so he could scare the souls out of humans?

I highly doubted that this mundane man was something more than ordinary. But there was something about him… it was like an energy that radiated off of him. It tickled the tips of my fingers, attempting to show me how powerful he truly was.

"You've got a mouth on you. I like that." His eyes flashed red at me, a deep crimson red that definitely read as not human.

Hell's bells. All of it was really real wasn't it? Demons… angels…. And here I was, caught in the middle of it. Standing right in front of the freaking King of Hell. The "my life is going ok" train just turned straight into "yeah you're fucked" town. Dean and Sam didn't warn me about to do in case I came across the freaking ruler of Hell! 

Oh, God, Jesus Christ - I wanted to cry.

I was way out of my depth here.

"Oh for the love of Pete! I was hoping that this whole demon thing was a load of crap and the Winchester's belonged in a nut house. But it looks like maybe I'm the one who needs to go to the nut house now, too. I don't think one person is supposed to handle this much information at one time. My brain is probably going to explode." I dropped the weapon down to my side and placed a hand on my temple, rubbing it. This was just way too much. Red, creepy eyes on a devilishly handsome man that called himself the King of Hell?

Please, someone, wake me up from this horrible nightmare.

"I'm very real, I can assure you of that, dove." Within an instant, he was in front of me. His body pressed against mine, with a hand that wound itself in my hair. He gave it a hard yank to expose my neck to him, and I let out a tiny yelp of pain.

"Now, who are you…?" He asked again, his head dipping down against the flesh of my throat. I felt his nose trail up the base of it, inhaling my scent. Shoo, this was still a little much for me. Kind of creepy really. A strange demon sniffing me… but also with himself, all pushed up against me. I couldn't deny that being smooshed up against him didn't do something for my girly parts since they were doing a little happy dance. I had to shush my lustful parts and gently remind them that we were probably in actual danger and it was no time to get all excited. I think given the tension between Dean and I the night prior, my whole sexual alarm system was going nuts, and just itching for a reason to let loose. 

"Tell me, dove." He repeated himself, harshly tugging my hair once more. The tone of his voice caused a mix of fear and desire to pool in my stomach. I could feel the pricks of his stubble caress my throat… and I swear I felt him nibble on my neck.

"Amelia." I gasped out, my arms just hanging at my side. Oddly, I felt powerless. Was it something he was doing? God, it made me angry that my body was acting this strangely. The bloody king of Hell was practically molesting me and all I could do was get aroused like a giddy school girl instead of beat him off of me and get the hell out of Dodge.

"Amelia," He said my name like he was savoring it as if it were a fine wine. "You're the Winchester's new pet aren't you? Probably screwing one of them – no, what's this?" Once again he inhaled me, and his other hand snaked behind my back to pull me into him and I was reminded of how close we were now. "Ah… I know that smell. It's a smell of innocence. If you're not screwing either of them… then why are they keeping you? Are you a new stray they've vowed to take in, hmm, dove?" I could practically hear the smirk in his voice. My eyebrows furrowed in aggravation. How was this amusing to him?

I resented that statement. I was not a common pet for the Winchester's to take in. I was more than that, somehow. The way he spoke to me, was like I was just a little toy getting ready to be thrown away.

"They're my friends, not my babysitters, you pompous asshat." Irritation consumed me, and I could feel it bubbling up in the pit of my stomach. I no longer wanted this man pressed against me, no matter how much I enjoyed it. Amelia was fed up with gorgeous, dangerous men thinking they could take advantage of her! It took all my might, but I managed to regain use of my arms and shoved him away. He stood in front of me, with a stunned look on his face.

"You shouldn't be able to do that. Not anyone human, anyway. What are you?" He reached his hand out, his fingertips barely brushing me. But before he could attempt to take another step closer, shouting could be heard in the distance.

Dean and Sam.

"And that's my cue to go. You might not be able to harm me much… but those Winchester's… Till next time, dove." His eyes flashed red again. They lingered on me only for a moment before he gave me a wink, and disappeared into nothing.

Oh, hell. What was that? I'd just been semi-seduced by the King of Hell, and at the same time nearly pissed my pants. I tried to gather myself, pushing my hair back behind my shoulders. I could smell him on me, it was an expensive, spicy smell… and it made me hungry with desire.

But what did he mean by that I shouldn't have been able to push away from him? I wasn't completely weak, but it wasn't so hard to push him away.

Not that I had totally wanted to.

I shivered at that thought, not entirely sure why I was so willing to have that man grope me and hold me. It wasn't like I would've let him do any more than just that anyway.

"Amy! Why aren't you in the Impala, get the hell in there and let's go!" Dean yelled with ferocity in his voice, running down to the car. I didn't even have time to correct him as he opened up the driver's door and cursed at me as he opened mine and threw me in. Sam bolted inside of Baby and yelled at Dean to drive.

"Why in the hell were you just standing there like a star stuck idiot? What gives? You should've been ready to go." Dean was already speeding off, and he kept turning to look at me. "What's all over your shoulders?"

I looked down at the body part in question and saw little specs of yellow dust that littered my shirt. I touched it, rubbing it between my fingers before sniffing it. It was highly sulfuric. I brushed it off of me and leaned back in the car.

"What's going on with you, Amelia?" Sam turned to look at me, and I noticed he had a gash on his forehead, and his hair was slick with sweat.

I couldn't find the words. I felt so weak, and tired as if my batteries were drained now. That man had literally drained all the fight out of me. But I sighed and looked out of the window. The sun had finally set, and we were encased in sheer darkness. The only light that came for us was the high beams of the car.

"I… I just met the King of Hell, I think." Immediately Dean hit the brakes and turned to look at me. I barely lifted my head from the window, too tired to react.

"You what? Crowley got near you? Are you okay? I swear to Christ if he-"

"No, no. He just… wanted to know who I was." Was all I could muster in response, replaying the moments where he had indulged in my scent. The mere fact that he could tell I was a virgin by sniffing me… was cringe-worthy. The thoughts of touching him had faded completely, and I pondered whether or not that was just an effect he had on humans… making them lust after him. Like I said, men (demon or otherwise) and their egos.

Dean exchanged looks with his brother for a moment before turning back to the steering wheel, and once again hit the gas.

"Doesn't look like you're going on your own anymore, Amelia. If Crowley knows you're a friend of ours, he'll try to hurt you." Sam said to me, looking at me with sad eyes. "You can't leave now, I'm sorry. And we're sorry we just left you here like a sitting duck." That last remark was directed straight at Dean, who pretended not to notice. And dammit, Sam was right - I could've helped back there with the boys! But instead, there I was, left to the devices of a devilishly handsome... devil.

I shook my head and held my hand up to stop his apologetic blathering. My head was beginning to pound. "No need to be sorry for that. I can't say that I'm entirely okay with the idea of me leaving off the two of you just for that batshit crazy, virgin sniffing, King of Hell to scoop me up." I placed the pistol down and realized my hands were shaking. I crossed my arms, in the attempt to steady them.

"Virgin sniffing?" Dean sounded a tad irritated, with a hint of jealousy. I didn't understand why I sure as hell wasn't his virgin after being subjected to his grumpiness all day.

"That's not important. What is mildly important, however, is that I was able to shove him away… after he was doing some weird mind shit where I couldn't move."

Sam turned to look at me again, but now with curious eyes. "You what?"

"He was happily groping and sniffing me, and I had enough of it," I started, leaving out the details of how much I had actually enjoyed it. Dean would've had something rude to say about it, and it wasn't an argument I was super excited to have with him. "Before, my arms felt like… stone, I couldn't move. But when I got angry with him and wanted him to release me, I just… pushed him off like it was nothing. He told me I shouldn't be able to do that. Why is that?" I asked Sam, recalling the burst of energy that had bubbled inside of me before making Crowley back the hell up.

"He's right… you shouldn't. Not unless you're, I don't know, part monster or demon, are you? No? Didn't think so." Sam turned to his brother, with concern written all over his face. Sam's kindness and worry always touched my heart. My feelings for him may not be what I had begun to feel for his older brother, but I had to admit he was a good friend. Someone who always made me feel welcomed where his brother hadn't.

"Maybe we should talk to Castiel…" Sam's tone turned down to almost silence, as he spoke with Dean.

I sighed, not wanting anything to do with that angel weirdo again. He gave off some asshole vibes and I wanted no part of it. Not in my current state. No thank you.

I tried to listen to their hushed conversation, but they were talking too low for my ears to pick it up. I rested the side of my head against the car and closed my eyes until sleep overtook me and granted me a dreamless sleep.


	8. Contempt

"She does not appear to be… anything other than extremely ordinary." Castiel's cold hand pressed my face to one side, and then another. His eyes were full of contempt, which I assumed was caused by the Winchester's request of looking me over. I shot an annoyed look at him as he continued to check me over. How could he tell what I was just from looking at me, I wondered.

 _Extremely ordinary…_ Couldn't you have just said  _human_? The words left me bitter, and I sighed heavily, so he would notice my irritation with him. I was growing weary of this checkup. "Okay, so as we already knew, I'm one hundred percent human. Nothing more. Are we done here?"

"We're doing this because of what happened between you and Crowley. Don't get so aggravated and sit down." Dean spoke from behind the  _angel_ , as I was about to stand out of the chair they'd sat me in. His arms were crossed against his chest, and his cool eyes never left mine. Crap dammit, that man was starting to get under my skin. But the look he gave me still made my heart skip a beat.

Why in the world was it that I was surrounded by attractive men… who were nothing but testy, arrogant, and self-centered jerks.

"There is only one other way I could be certain that she is _just_  human, but it would require help from the two of you." Castiel turned to the brother's, and his hand clamped down on my shoulder to keep me from standing up again. "I will have to reach in and see that her soul is intact, and if there is anything attached to it."

 _Reach in? My soul?_ Oh hell, no.

"Okay – so here's the deal. I am still a person, and I have say so of what happens to me and my body. There will be no 'soul searching' today. Or well, ever. I'm serious." I managed to pull away from his grip and stepped to the side of him. Just because I was stuck with the Winchesters for the rest of whenever, it didn't mean they had the final say in what happened with my soul.

Sam and Dean looked at me, and then to Castiel.

"The chances of her letting us do that are slim to none, Cas." Dean said nonchalantly, not moving at all from where he leaned against the concrete wall. Okay, nice to see that tall, dark, and stupidly handsome was on my side for once. I thought for a moment he would've just said to hell with consent and strapped me down to a table, seeing as the men who were in my life at the moment thought forcing things on me was fun.

"Amelia, you do understand we could find out what's up with you here and now, right? Instead of just… not knowing?" I was shocked to hear Sam pushing on for the soul touching business. I thought we were pretty tightly bonded on the friendship train. I needed to stop referring to every aspect of my life as trains, seeing as each one of them always seemed to crash before they reached their destination.

I pursed my lips. "I understand that. But from the way it sounds, fondling my soul is going to be very painful, isn't it?"

"Extremely, so." Castiel said, and there was a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

I cut my eyes at the angel and placed my hands on my hips. "If you think for one second I'd be okay with it, you're dead wrong. I've been just fine in life without knowing anything extra about myself. And I'm not really that worried about it now, especially with Mr. Soul Grabby over here ready to pounce."

Sam simply shook his head and turned back to Castiel. "Thanks, Cas. I guess for now we'll just do some research about her. She's not anything inhuman. So we'll start from there." Sam's tone rang a little dry and irritated. Why would he be mad at me for self-preservation?

"I wish to speak to you about the tablet," Castiel replied, no longer concerned with my wellbeing. Or un-wellbeing. Depending on how you want to look at it. His vibe was so unfriendly, I'd only imagine that he would enjoy inflicting pain on me. It bothered me a little that he was giving off that impression that he loathed me. What the hell had I ever done to him?

Sam and Castiel strolled out of the room, talking in hushed voices as they did so, not once turning their heads back to look at me. Demon tablet… the thing they'd been after yesterday? I wondered if they had found it or not, nor was I even sure what the hell it was. It was folly to even ponder it for much longer, given that I could hardly wrap my head around the idea that an  _angel_  had just asked to play doctor with my soul.  _My soul._

"I am so very out of my depth, here." I groaned, taking a seat once again in the chair, as if it were somehow therapeutic to finally say it aloud after such a crappy evening.

"It's not all that difficult to get that you need to cooperate here. No human can just… will themselves out of a demon's grasp. Especially not Crowley's, and most definitely not without packing some heat." Dean spoke, reminding me that he was still very present in the room.

"Why can't it just be as simple as 'I'm a hard-headed woman who doesn't take crap from anyone'? My strong will simply decimated whatever spell he put me under." I sat back, trying my best to relax. I just felt very on edge… After this evenings events, and sir grabby soul hands, my nerves were a complete wreck. I wanted to be over this crap, and go with the flow of life without so much damn trouble. 

But I had to remember which direction life had changed its course to.

Nothing but chaos, supernatural beings, and hot men.

 _Once again – so, so, very out of my depth_ , I repeated in my head again, as if it were my mantra. 

"It's not. You should stop thinking like that." Dean pushed himself from the wall he was leaning against and sauntered over to me. I couldn't read the expression on his face, and I wondered what exactly was going through his head.

He bent down in front of me and took my hands into much larger ones. "I get that this is… different. It's probably downright scary as all hell. But look at me, Amelia." One of his hands reached out to push a strand behind my ear that had fallen out of my messy ponytail. I stared into his eyes, and I felt my whole body go weak.

"You will be okay. Sam and I? We'll be here. To make sure you're alright. Now, I'm not saying you need to go have Cas dig through your soul. But you get that you're not alone, right?"

My heart ached as he spoke to me. Where was this coming from? He'd been such a jerk to me for the past day and now… I wanted to kiss the life out of him, feel my fingers tangle in his hair, inhale his scent and let him wash over me like rain. Even after our lustful encounter the night before, I couldn't deny that I had a connection with this man.

"Thank you, Dean." I gave him a wry smile, enjoying the heat that his hands offered my own.

His eyes glittered for a moment, and the hand that had brushed my hair away brought itself up to cradle my head so that he could bring my face in closer to his. My heart stopped at that moment, as his eyes searched my own. They were filled with need and unspoken desires. And then his lips claimed mine, in a soft, and slow kiss that made my toes curl. It wasn't like the kiss we shared the other night – hot, fiery, and passionate – no, this was a gentle, meaningful kiss. It was comforting, the way his lips slowly moved along mine, as his thumb stroked my cheek.

Maybe it wasn't just that Dean was hot and bothered for me. It never occurred to me that he would actually have feelings for me. This wasn't a sexual kiss. It was a lover's kiss.

I leaned into him, letting his lips part mine as his tongue steadily slipped between them. It didn't wrestle with my own as it had done the other night. It simply just looked to nestle in next to it, giving it slow strokes, sweetly coaxing it to come out and play. I was sure I was going to melt right there and then because, after a moment of that, he bit my lip.

Before I could properly melt into an ooey gooey mess of longing, Dean pulled away from the kiss. His eyes were warm, and now full of something I couldn't read. I wanted to ask him what exactly it was he was thinking now. Was he happy? Was he falling for me? Was that just a kiss to calm my nerves, or a kiss to persuade me into hopping into bed with him? I parted my lips to speak, but he stopped me with one more kiss on my lips. I couldn't hide that they were burning with not only want but questions. Before I could react, he had already stepped away from me and completely out of the room itself.

Was he just going to walk away? After  _that_? That was no sexual attraction kiss. That was pure passion, and want that went far beyond the bedroom. A headache soon began to pound in the back of my head. Dean Winchester was by far the most confusing man I'd ever met. One minute he wants to jump my bones, and then the next he wants absolutely nothing to do with me… just to put me right back on edge with a kiss that nearly set my soul on fire.

"Out. Of. My. Depth." I repeated to myself, shaking my head. What in the hell was I going to do?

* * *

"What... is that?" Sam's voice called from behind me, as I was busily stirring away at a saucepan.

"You've never seen a sloppy joe before?" I turned to look at him, my eyebrows raised to their full potential. I continued to stir slowly, enjoying the way the scent of the meat and mixture of sauce caressed my nose, causing my stomach to growl.

"No, I mean – that's not like any kind of sloppy joe I've seen." He went to stick his finger into the pan for a taste, but I smacked his hand away.

"You boys barely know how to cook! I'm getting tired of take-out and TV dinners. So tonight, you're going to have an actual, real meal. Not something served from a can, either. Homemade, Sammy. My Grandmother Julia's recipe." I smiled ear to ear, with a little pride as I pointed my wooden spoon at him. Don't get me wrong, I'm no chef Bobby Flay – but I could cook, and I knew it. I pulled out a spoon from a side drawer and dipped it into the pan.

"You don't seem like the home cooked meal type. No offense." Sam gave me a skeptical look but accepted the spoonful of food that I handed him. He looked at the spoon, but shrugged and slipped it into his mouth. For a moment his expression was blank, as his jaw moved, obviously savoring the taste. Within a moment, his eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. "Never mind."

My head tipped back as I let out a trickle of laughter. "I told you. Now isn't that better than some burger from a fast food joint? Same amount of grease, but way better." I couldn't help but feel a little full of myself now. Sam thought my cooking was good! I mentally did a little happy dance as I placed the wooden spoon on the stove next to the pan and placed a cover on it to let it simmer.

"Where did you learn to cook like that?" He asked me, setting the spoon back on the corner of the counter, near the sink. Despite setting the spoon as far away as possible, I was sure he was going to talk me into letting him have another spoonful before it was actually ready.

"My mother did." I gave him a small, sad smile. I had almost forgotten the sting of losing my parents. Sure, my mother had been gone a lot longer than my father… but it still drove an emotional stake right through my still bleeding heart.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to-"

I raised my hand up to stop him and turned away from the stove. "It's okay. My mom… she passed from a brain tumor about a year ago. She was my role model. The woman taught me to cook, taught me to love… did everything she could to put me through school. I'm sad she's gone, but she's bound to be in a better place. Especially since apparently heaven is actually real."

"We lost our parents, too, Amelia. So we know what it's like." The expression on his face was full of sadness, and sheer regret.

"Hey. It's okay." I put my hand on his arm, and gave it a squeeze. "We'll start our own Dead Parents club, ok?"

He smiled at that and surprised me by pulling me into a bear hug. It was comforting, and I found myself relaxing into his embrace. Sam had evidently accepted me into their little family, like I was a long lost little sister. "Weird as it sounds – I'm glad that we found you. You've certainly brightened up the place. We needed that… Dean especially." Sam pulled away and gave me a small smile.

I wanted to ask about why that was, but when you speak of the devil, he shall appear. Dean strode into the kitchen and sniffed the air.

"What is that  _amazing_  smell?" The eldest Winchester bellowed into the kitchen, waltzing right over to the stove. He picked up the lid, and inhaled the sweet, tangy smell of the meat.

"You made this?" He turned back to look at me, eyebrows raised just as high as his brother's had not even five minutes ago.

I snatched the cover out of his hand, and placed it back over the pan. "It's rude to touch things that aren't ready yet. Especially when you're not cooking it," I picked up the wooden utensil and shook it at him. "If you don't go on, the both of you, I promise I will not feed you."

Both of the brothers raised their hands in surrender, and slowly backed away. "Sheesh, woman. Alright, alright," Dean chuckled softly. "I didn't know you were so touchy about food. You definitely can't leave us now."

My mother was right. Food was certainly the right way to a man's heart.

* * *

 _Stuffed_ was not the word for me when I was finished with dinner. The boys and I ate our fill, and indulged in almost three cases of some off-brand, cheap beer. So, stuffed and drunk were the right terms for me. My head was fuzzy, and my eyes were far more than just exhausted. I wasn't even entirely sure how I had managed to stumble back to my own room without falling a few times. Or maybe I had.

Who knew?

As I peeled my clothes from my body, my thoughts wandered off to touch the events of the last few days. Especially today's events. Why in the world was Sam and Castiel so hell-bent on discovering who I truly was? I was just me. Amelia. Nothing more, not a human with an extra add-on that I didn't ask for.

Human. That's all it was to it.

But my curiosity got the better of me… what if there was something more to me? Something that actually was far from human? Could I be part vampire? Shapeshifter? Dare I say… demon? A little jolt of excitement ran through me at the thought of that. Imagine  _me_ , a supernatural being! How interesting would that be to put on a resume?

Okay, obviously I was a little out of my mind, considering the… seven? Seven sounds good. Seven beers that I had drunk with the brother's while they shared all of their war stories and Dean made back jokes to me. The whole evening his eyes never left mine, and it racked my nerves so badly that I couldn't help but drink beer after beer… until I couldn't really feel the anxiety that had pooled within me. It was replaced with a sense of ease, and merriment, and I felt more comfortable joking around with the boys.

I had to admit, I was a tad disappointed that Dean didn't attempt to make another pass at me, nor even walk me to my bedroom to say goodnight. I was going to have a word with him in the morning, which was for damn sure. I was not going to let him play mind games with me.

Even in my drunken stupor, I managed to change into a thin, white tank top, and just let the rest of me hang free with the exception of some very risqué pink, lace panties. Apparently, my body thought that a certain ruddy haired, handsome hunk might visit me tonight and try to make a move.

The way I was feeling, drunk and somewhat promiscuous, I might have let him. Damn be to my morals.

But with that thought still hanging in my brain, and most certainly in my body, sleep overtook me the very moment my head hit the soft cushion of the pillows. I had even forgotten to turn out the light.

In my dreams, nothing ever made sense to me, and I could never remember them. It always had been a whirl of colors, faces, and events that have no real relevance to my life, or really jump out at me and made me say "wow".

So imagine my surprise when I found myself walking through the same forest we'd parked the Impala in the day before so the boys could go on their demon hunt. The wind now was silent and did not brush up against me as it had before. From what I could see, it was neither dusk nor dawn. The light that shimmered above and kept my vision perfect was almost a very dark teal color. The trunks of the trees seemed lifeless now, the wood on them seeming to have decayed into a deep raven color. It reminded me more of a classic, morbid painting than it being a real-life place.

Why was I dreaming about this place, I questioned myself. My dreams were never events that made my actual consciousness stop and think. I'd never even had enough inner dialogue in the deep recesses of brain to even comprehend a dream.

A strong feeling overtook me, tugging me forward so that I took a step forward. It was then I realized I was wearing something different than what I had gone to bed in. A long, white as snow dress clung to my body, especially my hips, and flowed gracefully down over my bare feet. A slit sat right below the left side of my waist, exposing my thigh and leg. It was odd that I didn't shiver to the cold, since my arms and chest were bare of any garment. The neckline plunged deep into my breasts, placing them very much into view.

Yes. This was not normal at all. It was as if… it was real, and not a weird dream that I had mentally made up. It was not just a silly dream that happened in a blink of an eye.

Behind me, I heard the crunching of leaves. I whirled around, but found nothing but the trees that stared back at me.

"Hello?" I called out as if I was going to receive an answer. God, this had something to do with me not being human thing, didn't it? Maybe my inner-self was attempting to reach out to me in some mystical way to explain my past… right? It was cliche ****, but hell, at this point I was sure that anything went. It was too soon to give up on all the possibilities.

Suddenly I felt a familiar energy wrap itself around my bare arms. Goosebumps delicately rose up on my pale skin, but I welcomed the phenomenon, letting it caress me and hold me. It wasn't until a familiar scent rubbed itself against my nostril. It was musky… with a hint of spice. It wasn't the smell of the woods themselves. I knew exactly who it belonged to.

"Hello, dove."


	9. Wonderland

"Crowley." The name left my lips in a manner that had my stomach turn in somersaults. The King of Hell was certainly the last person I had expected to see – especially in a dream where I was made to look pretty much like his princess.

The man, or rather a demon, in question, took a step in my direction very slowly. His facial expression was a bit of a mystery to me, as it showed little or therefore no emotion at all. Yet, his eyes… the dark color, which reminded me of a rich chocolate, was tinted with little emerald speckles and they danced with fire as they sized me up. A thick hand emerged from the depths of his expensive, tailored suit, extending it so that he could place my hand in his. His eyes bore into mine as he placed a slow, but very deliberately sensual kiss on the back of my hand.

My body shivered with unwilling pleasure at the contact of his soft lips. I wasn't exactly  _pleased_  that my body was having such a reaction any more than I was pleased to see Crowley standing in front of me in a dream. He looked as he had the day before; he'd dawned a clean cut suit, frayed ebony hair that my fingers itched to touch, and the same damn smirk that made my skin crawl. Sure, he was the King of Hell… but no one should be  _that_ arrogant.

"You look so unhappy to see me, my dove. Why is that?" He held my hand only for a moment longer before returning it to me. His eyes glittered with something I couldn't read. My mind brushed against the question of what his game was here. What did he gain from invading my mind? Then again, was this even real? Or had I truly, officially lost my mind, and this was something that my bleeding libido had imagined up for me.

Sure, indulging in a dream would be nothing short of sane. But whether this was  _just_  a dream or not had me puzzled. It was different now, knowing that the possibilities of something otherworldly could happen, and I had to take that into careful consideration.

"Why do you think, oh mighty King of Hell? I don't tend to dream at all, and this is my quiet time you're interrupting. If this isn't some insane, more than the word crazy can handle, a dream I've conjured up because of the bit of sexual tension we share, then please do tell me what's going on here." I placed my hands on my hips and internally cooed as they caressed the soft material of the dress that had been dreamed up for me. I was sure no such thing existed, because when I touched it, it felt like I was stroking nothing but air.

"I can assure you dove, this isn't something you can make up." His words were nothing but seductive as they hit my ears, and he took another step towards me. His gaze was no longer playful, or passionate; the fire had slowly turned to ice, and intimidation was now his play. A finger swept underneath my chin, and gently jerked it upright so that his eyes could meet my own. They searched mine steadily, and I wondered if maybe he was trying to look into my soul.

But then he shook his head and retreated back a step. "I'm not here to harm you, if that's what you're asking. Nor is this something your mortal little mind could conjure up."

_Mortal little mind._

"Then why are you here then? If I'm just a little-minded mortal, don't you have better things to be doing? Like running Hell?" I sniffed, quieting down my pride that had been stung by his ridiculous insult.

"Your mind is only mortal because it has yet to grasp the things it can do. There's something that you're hiding, behind that mask of bravado and virginity, and I intend to find out what it is." He answered, looking at a nail to buff it against his jacket.

My face burned with fire at the mention of my virginity. What was the matter with this man? Well, creature? Demon? Whatever the Sam Hell he was. My virginity was not something on the table for him to talk about. The fingers that once itched to run themselves wildly through his hair now urged to slap him senseless.

"You and everyone else." I simply said, now crossing my arms over my chest. Which I soon realized was a mistake as it only pressed the line of cleavage that was more than apparent, upwards to the point that my nipples would surely bust out of it. And to my displeasure, the King of Hell took notice of this. His lips quivered when his gaze rested on my bare skin.

"Eyes up here, buster." I regretfully tugged up the soft material so that it clung just a bit higher on my chest, keeping my two little pillows of treasure neatly tucked away. "Back to the point at hand – I'm as lost as you are. And so are the Winchesters, apparently. Even the angel Castiel hasn't been able to pinpoint what I am. Not that I'm anything other than human. Because that's what I am, and the sooner you ignorant men get that through your thick, supernatural skulls, the better."

Crowley's fingers twitched as I spoke, and I could tell that anger was practically seeping out of him. But he sighed and snapped his fingers. Out of thin air, two chairs were placed in front of us. The structure of the chairs themselves was done in a very tasteful, fine gold, with cushions made out of the purest crimson velvet. The throne-like seats were seated across from each other, with a small, less magnificent tea tray between them.

"Would you care to sit with me for a moment, Amelia?" There it was again, my name being spoken by those delectable looking lips. It sent shivers down my spine, just as anything he did caused me to basically lose myself. His hand was raised, obviously waiting to escort me to the little tea party he had presented me with.

I ignored his gesture of chivalry, and gathered the snowy gown I wore in one hand and trotted over to one seat. I plopped down in it with as much grace as I possibly could muster, letting my  _bravado_  show quite well. I wouldn't let this demon think I was anything less than capable of handling myself. I was a strong woman, dammit. A fine, independent one at that.

The King of Hell only stood there for a moment, a look of agitation plain as day on his face as he strode over to his own seat. My jaw twitched as I noticed the man moved with more grace and poise than I had in one pinky as he took his own seat. He snapped his fingers again, and before us sat a small, antique teapot, and two cups that matched it that were perched on their respective saucers. Surrounding the ensemble were little cakes, plates of fruit, and meats that looked far too tasty to be real.

I stared down at them and heard my stomach growl.  _So much for not showing weakness_ , I raised a sarcastic thumbs up at myself internally.

Crowley's hand spread out, gesturing to the tray. "It's for you to enjoy, pet."

Hesitantly, I reached out for one of the cakes. It was iced neatly, coated with deep azure fondant, and topped with an edible honeycomb butterfly bush. The cake itself was vanilla, with a cream-colored filling. I sat the plate in my hand, and a little fork appeared next to it.

I cringed a little in my chair, thinking of how crazy this was. It was like I was Alice, falling straight into Wonderland to find the little treats that begged her to eat them and to drink them. And here I was, seated right across from a man that was a mix of the Cheshire cat, and the Mad Hatter. Of which he was, I would never be able to tell.

"If this is a dream, does it really matter if I eat this? I won't even be able to taste it, right? It is rather pretty." I wondered aloud and looked over at my dream companion. He sat, with his legs crossed, and an elbow seated on the armrest. He looked positively bored. To Hell with him, I thought, as I received no response.

Fork in hand, I pressed into the beautiful looking cake, scooping a small piece into it before popping it into my mouth. Boy – was I wrong thinking that this would taste like nothing. It was probably one of the most delicious pieces of food I'd ever brought to my lips. And I literally ate it within one minute.

"You have your answer." Was the only thing Crowley said I sat the (very, very) empty plate back down on the silver tray. A pang of annoyance rang through my head as I watched the bastard sit there. His expression was dull and lifeless, and it occurred to me that he didn't want to be here.

He was only here to find out who I was.

"I don't have an answer to your question, though. I don't know what I am, or if I am anything other than Amelia. The virgin. The human virgin." I sat back in my seat, crossing my legs tightly. The dress I wore, however, decided to give more than just a hint of my outer thigh as it hiked itself up further from the position I was sitting in.

Now I had his attention again.

"Why  _are_ you a virgin?" He asked me bluntly, the sting of embarrassment once again gracing my cheeks.

"That's a bit personal, isn't it?" I bit my lip as I looked away from him. Damn him! He made me feel like such an insignificant little fool. Of course, he was ridiculing me, mocking me for not being an experienced adult.

He gave me a nonchalant shrug of his broad shoulders. "You're a beautiful woman, pet. It's a good question if there was any. I can't… smell anything past that odor."

"Virginity has a smell?" I crinkled my own nose, tempted to take a quick sniff of myself to see if there was a scent of something other than the palpable fragrance of the misty woods that loomed over us.

"It's only something that I've seen supernatural beings do. Humans don't have very keen senses. Innocence is a very strong smell, my dove. It's something that's often sought out by many of my kind."

I gulped at that thought. I'd forgotten that every evil being in any text I'd read, prior to my knowledge that they were real, enjoyed using little female virgins as sacrifices for dark magic or to appease a higher being.

"You're not going to umm, sacrifice me or anything right? I didn't stay a virgin this long for that to happen." I nervously joked, and re-crossed my legs, switching so that now the left one remained on top. My fingers were shaking as I sat them on my knee, as I waited for his answer.

Apparently, my joke was far from funny, as Crowley didn't even smile. "Now, there's a thought. Virgin blood is extremely useful… Maybe if you answer my questions, I'll spare you."

"Right… questions." I sighed, leaning back in the throne chair a bit more. "I haven't exactly found someone that I would enjoy sharing that experience with. Er, that is losing my virginity – not the sacrificing. No one has really caught my eye in that department. So, here I am. Clutching on to my morals, and my innocence."

"Tch, morals," Crowley grumbled underneath his breath, picking up his cup of tea and setting it in his lap. As he drank the liquid, I watched him. His expression was still vastly unreadable, but his eyes were still very full of that fire I'd seen at first.

"So, if this is a dream… nothing said or done here has any real effect outside of it?" I pondered aloud as he set his cup back on the saucer with a silent clink.

"What happens here will only be in mind, not body. Say I were to… cut off your finger here, in this little dreamscape. You'd have a hell of a nightmare, but you'd wake up with your finger still very much attached." A little curve of a smile threatened to turn up on his lips, and I gulped. It seemed like he enjoyed the thought of removing a few of my phalanges.

"Not that I would do that, sweetheart," The smile finally turned up, and my heart stopped beating for a moment. "I told you, I'm not here to harm you."

I pursed my lips for a moment, and slid my fingers through each other, resting them as steadily as I could against my lap. "Then why are you here? You know that I'm unaware of anything going on with me other than being perfectly mortal. I can't answer your question… but yet, you're still here."

"There are ways of finding out what I need to know. You have something powerful hidden beneath the depths of your soul, Amelia. And I intend to shed some light on it." He spoke roughly, the small smile still glued to his face.

"But for now… I have to say that I am unable to pull myself away from you. There's something about you, something other than that power, which draws me to you…" His tone took a step into the thin line of seduction, as he sat himself upright in his throne. My heart, the poor little thing, skipped a beat. Was he trying to tell me he was into me? The King of Hell… was crushing on me?

No, that couldn't be right. I wasn't anything more than me. A human, a perfectly normal human that had been pushed into the dim light of the supernatural world. I couldn't give him an answer, and I sure as hell wasn't going to let him pursue me.

"That's nice and all," I started, uncrossing my fingers to rest them on the arms of the throne. "But I don't think that the feeling of being 'drawn' is mutual. You're the King of Hell. You sent two horrible demon minions to execute my father in front of me." The sound of my father's neck cracking in half resounded in the back of my mind, and I did what I could to quell it. I wanted answers from him now, and I didn't want my emotions to taint my confidence.

"That wasn't my doing." His eyes narrowed at me. "I apologize for that mishap, pet."

" _Mishap?_ You call my father being murdered right in freaking front of me a  _mishap_? You're a horrible, nasty liar." I spoke through my teeth, anger pooling in the depths of my belly.

The fire in his eyes rose with resentment, and he stood up immediately. "I'll tolerate your smart mouth here and there, dove. But I will not be insulted. I am the bloody King of Hell, and you will respect that."

"Hah! As if - if you think for one minute that I'll bow down to you like some insignificant peasant, you have another thing coming." The heat in his eyes was all but palpable in our little section of the dream woods. I could feel it all around me, grazing my bare skin. But rather than letting it intimidate me, I let it sink into my very being, harnessing it so that I could use it against him. I never once moved from my seat, as I imagined being a statue of pure energy and self-assurance. King of Hell or not, I wouldn't let this angry little man make me back down.

I wanted my answers, and I would get them.

Sensing the flames that were burning holes inside of me, he stood there for only another moment, before exhaling and sitting back down in his seat. "A woman after my own heart. If I had one, that is."

My body relaxed as he eventually did himself, and I smiled to myself. I'd made one of the most powerful beings in creation step down. Maybe it wasn't so out of reach that I was something more than human.

"Now, I want answers – not lies. Why did you send those bastards?"

"I told you, dove. I didn't send them. But I know who did." His cup was in his lap again, and he was absently mindedly stirring it with a silver spoon.

"And who was it? Because the Winchester's were pretty sure it was you. Who else would want to send demons after a man's soul with the weapon being a deal?" I asked curtly. I was getting tired of his games, and I wanted to get some rest before it was too late. Who knew how much time had passed in this dream world?

"An archangel, but that's all I know." He gave me a shrug, his eyes refusing to meet mine. He was hiding something, obviously keeping an important bit of information from me. But it wasn't as if there were a lot of archangels, right? I knew I could ask Sam and Dean, and we could hunt them down. Get the answers. I just wanted to have some sort of closure to this madness. I wanted to know that my father hadn't died in vain… not to the hands of this asshole who I found irritatingly desirable.

"Do you know why?" My eyes never left his.

"My own servants didn't quite catch what their motive was. Only that their master wasn't me. Naturally, I didn't intervene, so that I could catch them red-handed and deal with them with proper evidence." Again, with the bored looks.

I pursed my lips, and couldn't find another question to ask him at that moment. I would have my answers soon enough, even if they were directly spoken by Crowley himself.

"Well, I guess there's nothing more to ask about. So I'll be going back to bed now. I've had a long day, and before you interrupted me I was in a proper, drunk stupor… which I need to sleep off." I rose from my seat and straightened out my gown. "Pretty dress, this was. Do you think you can send me one?"

Crowley didn't rise from his chair or change his bored expression. "I don't think we're done here yet, pet."

"So now you control me?" I nearly growled at him. Dammit, just let me be!

In a flash he was in front of me, hands dug into my hips. I looked up at the King of Hell, who was only a head or so taller than myself. The playful fire was back to life in his deep hazel eyes, and there was something else hidden beneath the faint glow of green.

"I'm not done with you, Amelia." His lips crashed down onto mine, hot and hungry as they did so. My mind was screaming for him to let go – but yet… I had no desire for him to do so. My mouth responded to his, and without hesitation, our lips melded together as one. His breath was hot and heavy in my mouth, his tongue not asking for permission as it delved between my fiery lips. I let out a small moan, and that only caused a deep rumble of a growl to be heard from his chest.

His fingers dug into the material of my dress, and they sensual spread themselves around the thickness of my hips. He pulled me closer against him, and I cooed as our bodies pressed themselves together. This was a dangerous, seductive dance we were performing – one I knew I was going to have to back away from. If I hadn't given myself to Dean, a man that was everything I'd ever wanted… why would I let the King of Hell run amuck all over my body?

"I told you that what we do here will have no repercussions on your mortal boy, sweetheart." He answered my question aloud. I pulled back from his heated grasp for a moment to look him dead in the eyes.

" _You can hear my thoughts_?" Okay – not cool. How was I supposed to keep my head steady if he was busy invading it?

"This is a dream. Your subconscious. The thoughts you're having in your mind right now are nothing. Of course I can hear them." His eyebrows furrowed again, as he looked at me, once again making me feel like a fool. I'd have to remember to pick my thoughts very carefully now.

"So you're telling me that if we… did the dirty, here and now in my dream – I would still be a virgin in actual real life?" I demanded as his hands still feverishly ravished my hips.

"Yes, that's what I'm telling you. That cake you were eating? You could eat ten whole pieces and never gain a pound. This is what's going on in your mind, and nothing more. Less talking, more touching." He growled at me, his lips once again claiming mine as a hand trailed down the length of my dress to pull up the little slit that sat against my thigh. His hands trailed upwards, teasing me, as they grabbed at my waist from underneath the material.

Even if it had no effect on my mortal body – was this really what I wanted? But what could the harm be… I could finally have sex, and it would have no consequences on my morality. Physically, at least. But it was just a dream… and there was no way in  _Hell_  I could deny the desire I had for him.

"Atta girl." He chuckled lightly against my lips, and the hand that had remained outside of my dress extended and snapped its fingers. A king sized mattress, that was no more than two or three feet tall appeared adjacent to us. On it sat a handful of fluffy, cream-colored pillows. And was vacant of any kind of blankets.

Before I could protest the way he praised me throwing my caution to the wind, he threw me onto the bed. It was soft and seemed to fit snuggly to my form. And then he was on top of me, his hot mouth everywhere as it pressed feverish kisses on the flesh of my neck. My hands pulled and tugged at his hair, and at his coat, peeling it off of him as I gave little moans to him.

He snapped his fingers once more, which I had to admit was becoming kind of cliché, and the gown I wore was completely gone. I was lying stark naked underneath Crowley. As he hovered above me, on his hands and knees, he took a moment to admire the sultry flesh of my body. My face flushed again, and I'm sure that my cheeks were nearing the peak of a deep crimson now.

He didn't say anything for a moment, as his eyes appraised the nakedness of my ivory toned body. But then his eyes narrowed, and he had found what he wanted to start with. A hot mouth latched onto a very hard, perky nipple, his lips tightly wrapping around it. My back arched, and I cried aloud as his tongue did a swirl around the aching little nub.

"Is it true that they say virgins are easily excited?" Crowley's eyes were dark, and the emerald glints that I had seen before were now gone. Lust, and a passion so deep, touched my soul were all too evident in his gaze. I wanted to get after him for such a comment since I was tired of being ridiculed. But I didn't have time to as he parted my thighs, and his fingers lazily traced circles on the sensitive inner flesh of them.

And this his fingers teased the most sensitive part of my whole body. It slowly drug itself from the bottom of my desire, to the top, drawing another circle around an erogenous little button. Oh, God, I thought I was going to pass out right then and there. Well – maybe not so much as pass out, but wake up. The way his finger danced along my clit had me writhing in ecstasy, and my brain was contemplating just shutting itself off.

"I guess it's true…" Crowley's voice was low, as his finger slid gently into my most delicate of places. His finger felt like sheer fire as it slid completely inside of me, showing that it was true that my virginity had no power here. I expect pain, from the insertion… but all I felt was a deep desire that was begging for more. His lone finger danced a seductive rhythm inside of my heated core, moving in an out in at a slow pace that was making me go crazy. The forest around us shifted, no longer a morbid, but bright wonderland. The light of the sky took a turn to a deep shade of violet, and the trees seemed to hum with a brilliant golden glow.

"More," I croaked out, my mouth dry with want. I wanted to taste him, I wanted to touch every fiber of his being with myself. God – I didn't know where this side of me was coming from, but it was demanding, and hell-bent on getting its way.

"What's that, dove?" Teasing eyes bore into mine, and his mouth had turned up into a wicked smile that caused my heart to stop. Before I could answer, he slid in another finger, working my cunt in a way I never thought possible. As I've said, I've gotten around to foreplay before… but this was more than anything any mortal man had ever given me. I could feel an orgasm on its way as his fingers continued to pump inside of me.

His lips pressed a sweet kiss to the inside of my thigh, before giving it a hard tug with his teeth. Normally, I didn't enjoy pain mixed with pleasure… but that was more than enough to set me into overdrive. And then… his tongue found its way to the sweet center of my core, lapping at my clit.

"Oh, God." I cooed as his tongue played with me, along with the fingers that seemed to melt inside of me.

"God can't help you now, my dove." Amusement was thick in his husky voice as his lips wrapped around the little nub and sucked at it gently. His fingers plunged deep within me now, picking up their pace.

As my orgasm neared, the man between my thighs swore.

"For the love of Christ… Amelia… Until next time."

Suddenly, I was no longer laying on the soft bed Crowley had imagined for us. He was no longer face to face with my most personal place. No, now I was laying in the bed of the bunker I'd called home for the past several days. My body was wet with sweat, and all of my covers were off of me.

"You have to be freaking kidding me!" I grabbed a pillow to my side and pulled it over my face so I could scream out my frustration. Not only was I more than angered by the lack of release… but I'd truly attempted to give my body over to the King of Hell.


	10. Indecision

"Well, hell." I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, or rather the lack of. The dream with Crowley had completely drained every last bit of energy that my tired body had been clinging on to. I could still smell the deep, woody scent of not only the imaginary forest but that of the King of Hell himself. My body was still shivering, my skin glistened with cold sweat droplets.

"It couldn't have been real… could it?" I asked myself aloud as I sat up in my damp bed. My feet welcomed the cold of the concrete as they rested on the floor. I ran my fingers through my moist hair, before rubbing my face once again. There was no way on God's green earth that, that dream had been anything more than something I'd made up because of all of the sexual tension that had been tainting my thoughts for the past few days.

"That's all it is, Amelia. You're just tired, extremely easy to arouse… and…" I trailed off, as my thoughts continued to wrap around the situation, and I desperately wanted to dismiss the whole thing as nothing more than a dream that made me hot and bothered.

But something struck me as odd, something that didn't quite sit well with me, and my disheveled self. If I had made it up… where would I have gotten the idea that someone other than Crowley had been the mastermind behind my father's death? It was obvious to all that Crowley was the man behind the murder, being the king of Hell and the ruler of demons… But what about the idea that it was an  _archangel_ , rather than the sexy demon king that rattled my chains? I thought angels were supposed to help people, not try to damn someone's eternal soul. Alarm bells still rang heavily in the back of my head, trying to warn me that there was an obvious answer here. One that I wasn't quite seeing.

My lips pursed as I tried to think through the events of the last few days, including all of the text I'd read with Sam. There must've been something somewhere that I'd read about archangels, or just knew off hand that my mind wasn't willing to cooperate with telling…

But, maybe it was best if I went directly to Sam with this information, and ask him what he thought. Maybe it  _was_  possible for a demon to invade a dream, especially when said demon was top dog of all others. I wanted to bang my head against the floor that offered my heated body relief, and just keep banging it until I didn't have to think anymore.

After a quick shower, since I had deemed my sweaty body too foul to be around others, I found that I hadn't actually been asleep long. It was still the wee hours of the morning, and now I would have to wait for the Winchester's to wake up. It wouldn't be fair of me to disturb them at such an early hour. I was still unsure of the whole "hunting" aspect of their life, but I could tell it did really tucker them out. And, I pointed out to myself, they were probably still sleeping off all of the alcohol we'd consumed only a few hours before. I was actually a little surprised myself that I wasn't still a little tipsy.

Unfortunately, my mind and body were still practically vibrating with the memory of that dream's events. I could still feel Crowley's hands touching me, all over, and the caresses of little promises that his kisses offered my lustful flesh. There was no way I was going to be able to go back to sleep, especially after that. And I wasn't exactly looking forward to another encounter with the demon king, either.

I sighed, wrapping a warm fluffy robe over top of my shirt, and pajama shorts, as I exited the confines of my little room. I poked my head out, hoping maybe that one of the Winchester's were awake so I could interrogate them about what they knew about archangels. But, after no signs of life from either of them, I decided I would just have to get the information myself. I mean, hell, there was a library filled with hundreds of books about all things otherworldly.

After padding off to the kitchen to grab a little cup of coffee, I'd sat down with a few dozen books regarding the hierarchy of heaven, and heaven's most prestigious angels: the archangels. Said to be the true sons of God. As I took a sip of coffee, which was warm and rich, there were four names that stuck out to me as I read, Michael, Gabriel, Raphael… and Lucifer. Lucifer… also known as Satan. I knew he was an angel – but I didn't know he was an archangel. As I continued to flip through the worn pages of the historical text, I absentmindedly wondered why Crowley had to cut the dream short – not saying that I actually enjoyed it or anything. It didn't seem like him to put off something that he was genuinely interested in…

"What are you doing?"

I choked on my coffee, managing to set it down before dropping it on my lap, or worse all over these priceless books. Castiel had magically appeared next to me, one of the texts I'd been reading in his hands. His eyes were hard, little-narrowed orbs.

"What am  _I_  doing? How about you tell me what the hell you're doing?! You could warn someone before just poofing right in front of me!" I tried to keep my temper, well, tempered. I didn't want to wake Dean or Sam up.

"I am an angel of the Lord. I can go where I please. You should know this, seeing as you are brushing up on your knowledge of Heaven." He gave me a speculative glance, before closing the book in his hand, setting it gently on the table.

"Oh, shove it." I murmured, taking another tentative sip of coffee. He said nothing to that, which I know he heard. He continued to sit there, glancing over the titles of the texts I had snatched out of their respective bookshelves.

"Castiel?"

"What is it?" He was curt with me and caused little pinpricks of agitation to raise on my neck.

"Why do you act like you loathe breathing the same air as me?"

Castiel turned in his chair to face me, his eyes once again narrowing to glare at me. He seemed like he was thinking for a moment, his lips pressed into a tight line.

"There is something… unholy that surrounds your very being, Amelia. Something that causes me to act very rude towards you, I admit." He spoke slowly, as he tried to summon the correct words to describe his distaste of me.

"I don't see why that has to make you be such an asshole to me." I scoffed, reading another page in the textbook in front of me, which brought me back to the whole reason for my being in the library hall before five AM. "What do you know about archangels?"

"Why do you want to know?"

A mix of fury (because of the contempt in his tone) and embarrassment lit my pale cheeks aflame. I needed to pick my words carefully, as I wasn't really interested in sharing the very… intimate situations that had gone on between the King of Hell and myself. I didn't think he'd want to hear about it either.

"I have a feeling that Crowley wasn't the one who killed my father." I said slowly, trying to find a pertinent way of rationalizing how my thoughts had taken to that conclusion.

"But I assumed the Winchester's had already solved this case? It's obvious that Crowley was indeed involved… There is no way you could come to that idea without help. Where did you hear of this?" The accusation was plain as day in his eyes, and I knew then I'd been caught red-handed.

"I was visited by a certain demon who won't be named in a dream. Who it was, is not the point. What they said, however, had me rethinking the whole ordeal." I avoided his gaze, pleased with the explanation I'd given him.

"It does matter who, Amelia, especially considering that you are fraternizing with demons…" He started, but waved his hand, dismissing that portion of the subject, "But regardless, what did this demon say to you?"

"They said that Crowley wasn't the one behind the attack – but an archangel. They didn't know the motive behind it, but they'd overheard other demons mentioning the said deity." I recalled the look in Crowley's eyes as he had given me this bit of information. The boredom, and animosity in his eyes still caused a pool of uneasiness to slosh around in my coffee filled belly.

"The archangels… Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, and Lucifer…"

"Great, so you know them, yeah? I'd seen their names here, on this page…" I perked up, hoping that the angel wouldn't hold too much of a grudge for the "unholy" aurora that I held.

"Gabriel and Raphael are dead." He said matter-of-factly, and my heart kind of dropped. Two suspects were out of the question, now. And the passive look on Castiel's face told a grim tale concerning the other two archangels in question.

"As for Michael and Lucifer… well, I am afraid that's not possible." He shook his head, affirming that I'd been right to think it wasn't going to be so easy to point a finger at any of the archangels. Was it possible now that Crowley had only been trying to make me think it was someone other than him, just so that I wouldn't be angry with him? All for what… so he could get in my pants? That rat bastard.

"And why's that?" I closed the book at hand and turned to Castiel. I tucked in my robe a little closer I studied him. The body he'd chosen as his vessel was very easy on the eyes. But the personality underneath its skin didn't very well appeal to me.

"Michael and Lucifer are in a cage. In Hell."

"For the love of Pete… so that means it's virtually impossible for them to do anything in the mortal world?" I quizzed him, pulling back my damp hair behind my shoulders. The next time I saw Crowley, I was going to throttle him. If that was possible. Hopefully, I could coax whatever mystical powers I had beneath my soul to teach him a lesson in lying to people. And murdering their family.

"It is technically impossible for them to do anything outside of the Cage. It is, however, possible for either one of them to have consorts in Hell. There are many demons that still uphold the values of Lucifer. But what is it for him to gain in having one mortal soul? Or perhaps, that your father's soul was just one of the many he may be collecting…" Immediately he rose, once again dawning a grim look.

"I must go speak with the other angels, and see if they have had a word of any of Lucifer's movements. We have many informants that know of what goes on in Hell." I blinked, and he was gone.

Great, so Crowley maybe wasn't just leading me on some wild goose chase. I was kind of loathe to admit that because now I had a whole mystery and an adventure on my hands. I wasn't a "let's go solve the crime!" kind of person – I wasn't a heroin in a teenage romance novel. I was just Amelia… the human… right?

* * *

"Please just wear it." Dean was aggravated with me now, since I was intentionally trying to ignore him, and the necklace he dangled in front of me. The pendant, on what looked to be a delicate iron chain, was supposedly an anti-possession charm.

"I don't see why I have to wear that weird thing. It gives me the heeby-jeebies." I refused to even look at it, let alone take it from him. Something about the charm had my skin crawling. I didn't believe for one moment that Crowley had been possessing me in that… dream. I wouldn't wear it. But Dean was incredibly stubborn this morning, especially when I'd woken him and his brother up before six AM, after the conversation with Castiel. He was incredibly hungover and had a scowl that my brain had seemingly deemed adorable.

"The only reason some asshole demon was crawling around in your brain, was because he possessed you. Demons can't just enter someone's dreams, they're not magic. They're pure evil, simple as that. Now, you can either wear the damn thing - or Sam and I will take you to the nearest tattoo parlor and  _hold you down_  and get it permanently tattooed on you." Who in the hell did Dean think he was? My father? Sheesh. I knew that I had seen the sweeter side of Dean over the past day or so, but his bossy side seemed to be the one he favored.

But I didn't think I was going to enjoy being strapped down to a chair while some random tattoo artist drew a big old anti-possession symbol on me. I wasn't particularly fond of needles.

I grumbled and took the necklace from him, and begrudgingly swept my hair back so I could place it around my neck.

"Can you at least help me with the clasp?" I asked him. His tired eyes met mine for a moment, and let out a heavy sigh that was pregnant with annoyance.

He walked behind me, and swept the rest of my hair out of the way as I held the two ends of the necklace for him. I was all too aware of the feeling of his hot breath on the nape of neck, and my knees started shaking again. Oh, how could I even let myself feel this way after the events that occurred between Crowley and I? Sure, Dean and I were not an actual couple, and I wasn't really sure if there was anything more between us than just a desire to explore each other sexually…

But there was something there, wasn't it? With Dean, the feelings between us were riddled with more than just simple lust. He wanted to know me, he was attempting to kindle a flame of more than just sheer want. With Crowley, our blossoming relationship was dripping with desire, and unnatural need. I knew no way for sure if he wanted me for me, or just for my body and this secret about myself that I'm supposed to be aware of.

I was reminded of how close Dean was, his body slightly leaning into mine as his fingers fumbled with the iron chain. I was surprised that the pendant itself wasn't very heavy, considering it too was made out of a hefty iron. It still made me feel uncomfortable, to look at it, and I hoped I could just ignore the odd sensation of the anti-demon charm. Or maybe I could just take it off when the Winchester's weren't looking.

"Do you know the name of the demon who visited you last night?" Dean had taken a calmer temperament now, since I had willingly dawned the necklace he'd provided for me. He was still trying to get the chain to close, and it made me smile a little bit as he did so. He'd probably never once helped a woman put on a necklace or anything of the sort. And here he was, with those big hands that I loved, trying to help me out.

I pursed my lips at his question. I wasn't sure if I really wanted to answer it truthfully. Crowley and the Winchester's were not on good terms, as I could tell. What would Dean think if I told him that the King of Hell himself was paying me visits after hours? Of course, even if I did tell him, I'd leave out the parts about how erotic it was…

But would it be safer if I told him who it really was? He needed to know… so that way we could get to the bottom of this whole "Amelia isn't human" thing, and why Crowley is so interested in me.

I heard the metal behind me click, and he had finally gotten the clasp taken care of. I turned around to meet his gaze, and his lips were thinned, along with an eyebrow raised as he waited for an answer.

"I know who visited me, in the dream. I just didn't want anyone to get mad or freaked out, okay? Crowley visited me." Dean barely reacted as I spoke, his eyes no longer focused on me as he stared behind me. I kind of gave a little look, making sure there wasn't something there that was catching him off guard rather than what I had just told him.

Before I could blink, he pushed me down into one of the chairs in the main hall. His face was inches from mine, anger flowing deep in his hazel eyes. He braced himself on both arms of the chair as he continued to scowl at me.

"Tell me exactly what happened. In the dream. Now. Every detail." His voice was low as he spoke, his eyes searching mine.

I swallowed for a moment, and thought to myself how I would explain what had happened without letting on to the fact that Crowley had seduced me easily where I hadn't let Dean do so.

After a few minutes of briefly explaining the events in the dream, minus the fabulous things Crowley had done to me, he backed off and took a seat next to me.

"It doesn't seem to make sense to me that he'd waste effort on you if something wasn't to be gained…" He was thoughtful as he spoke, obviously going over every detail I'd given him. I couldn't see what the big deal was – maybe Crowley wasn't trying to have his name tarnished by a few rogue demons. Or maybe it was because he truly did want whatever it was that I unknowingly possessed.

"You keep that charm on, at all times. I don't need Crowley trying to pick your locks and take a look at that soul of yours… yes, it is possible considering he's a demon. It wouldn't be as painful as having Castiel look… I think you really should think about that again, though. Letting Castiel take a look at your hardware, that is."

"Hell, no. I don't want either one taking peeks at my soul!" I cringed back in the chair, refusing to make eye contact with Dean. Shame was overwhelming me now, thinking about the unadulterated lust that had been shared between Crowley and I. Dean Winchester cared about me – not just because I was some weirdo who had strength over the King of Hell himself, but because he genuinely did care. I could see it plain as day in the eyes I felt guilty looking into.

Dammit, I was falling for this guy – wasn't I?

If I ever saw Crowley again, I wouldn't let him seduce me so easily. I could hold my guard by remembering the feelings that were slowly stretching themselves between Dean and I.

But considering that he and I weren't a couple – didn't I owe it to myself to explore a possible relationship with Crowley. Despite being the King of Hell and all of the demons… he couldn't be that bad, could he? Until things were concrete between either one of these men, I wouldn't ground myself to the moral that I couldn't play the field a little. As long as no one got hurt, I told myself, it would be okay.

"Dean." A voice spoke from behind us, breaking the heavy look Dean was giving me as he turned to face not only his brother, but the angel Castiel as well.

"Did you find out who it is? The archangel? It's  _him_ , isn't it?" Dean asked, standing protectively in front of me. It was clear to me now that all of these men knew something that I didn't. Something they were loath to share with me.

"It's him, Dean." Castiel's tone was bleak, and I was surprised to see him throw a worried glance in my direction.

"Alright – I know I'm pretty late on just about everything, but it's kind of rude to keep information like that from a lady. Just who is it you're talking about?" I wanted to stand up, and assert myself, but Dean turned around with something in his eyes that read as unreadable.

I turned my gaze to Sam, the one man in this room who I trusted to get the truthful answer out of.

His face was just as melancholy as his brother, and friend's. He paused for a moment, but only spoke one word.

"Lucifer."


	11. Predator

Crowley traced his gruff facial hair with the edge of his thumb, as his thoughts consumed him. They happened to be lingering on his little visit with a certain human named Amelia.

He found himself absently mindedly relishing in the memory of the smell of her flesh, a harmonious mixture of rich lavender and untainted vanilla. The whimsical fragrance was still hot in his nostrils, and against his wishes, his body reacted to the memory of his nose snuffled up against her warm neck. His trousers suddenly felt a little tighter than usual.

But that wasn't what had his mouth watering, no, not at all he told himself. It was the delicious waft of innocence that clung to her being, the very scent that alerted him that she was so pure. A virgin. An untouched flower, ripe for the picking.  _His picking,_ he thought with much amusement.

It couldn't only be the scent that bathed her in sex appeal, it was those eyes that watched him carefully, those eyes… deep pools of azure that held so many secrets behind them. Secrets that he was hell-bent on finding out. Without a doubt, that's could only be what was holding such an unholy attraction to him.

He played with the thought, again, of what secrets were buried beneath her beautifully difficult layers. Something was there, yes, behind those spell-casting, mischievous eyes of hers. There was no way possible for her to be ignorant of any sort of power she possessed. She had to be lying to him, the little minx.

Angrily, his thoughts shifted. Who did she think she was to keep something from him, the King of Hell? Sure Crowley himself had no real jurisdiction over human beings – but he surely emitted enough power for any weakling to be able to recognize and obey.

But then there was Amelia… gorgeous Amelia a goddess in tantalizing human form. Once again, his arousal twitched beneath his trousers, and he found himself itching to touch the pale skin that nearly reminded him of unadulterated moonlight. He wanted to see those eyes cutting into his as she, a puny human, challenged knew that Amelia's sense of bravado was nothing more than an illusion to think twice about who he was messing with. But it wholeheartedly amused him, something that seldom happened to him. The only people who had ever stood up to him were the Winchester's… and of course, his mother.

Crowley closed his tired eyes for a moment, as he reclined slightly in his throne. Such was normal for him, to take little breaks where he could fit them in. What, with the new flux of intake on souls, it had become rather chaotic in his little 'kingdom'. Sure, he had no right swindling mortals out of their souls. But dammit, he was the King of Hell. It was his job to make sure Hell was running at max capacity and doing swimmingly well. He was bloody well proud of himself for skyrocketing their projectiles, and almost surpassing Lucifer himself.

However, he found himself frustrated now.

He wanted to dedicate his time to figure out the mystery that was Amelia. It wasn't only the need to know what secrets hid in the depths of her soul – but it was some unnatural attraction to her that he couldn't explain. As if he were drawn to her. From the very moment they had met, he'd been unable to pull his thoughts from where they clung to the memory of the frightened mortal. He remembered how easily she'd been persuaded to drop her guard, and allow Crowley to touch her, and indulge in her before the boys had shown up. Perhaps she was some sort of Siren, casting silent songs that made him fall head over heels with her. A witch, even. From what he'd seen from his mother, he knew it was all possible to create spells that would make the user seem more than just mildly attractive.

Whatever it was, the King of Hell was not letting the little dove out of his sights.

It had only been by sheer luck that Crowley had been able to manifest himself into the Winchester bunker to enter Amelia's head for a few short hours. And by now she'd probably let on to the two oafs what exactly had happened, and she'd have some sort of anti-possession charm on her. Or tattooed like Moose and Squirrel did. He had to admit to himself, that she would look rather fetching with a handsome tattoo gracing one pump breast.

But perhaps she wouldn't allow that… the charm becoming a permanent fixture on her, or otherwise. It wasn't as if his new little  _friend_  hadn't enjoyed the satisfaction he'd given quietly smiled to himself, eyes still closed, as he thought of the way her hips had arched off of the bed as he explored her heated, glistening center. She had been so easy to provoke, so amusing to play with as his tongue had done little swipes in the shape of a half-moon on her aching nub. The taste of her, he reminisced, was unlike anything that had ever graced his particular taste buds. His chest, forever a servant to his desire, began to tighten at the memory. Gods, how he wanted to taste her again. His arousal lept for joy at the chance to be close to Amelia again, and for sure he thought his trousers would weep if he didn't let it loose soon. The only thing the King of Hell could think of now was having the little dove spread for him before he impaled her with his throbbing-

"Fergus."  _For Christ's sake,_ Crowley mentally swore. How in the hell was he supposed to daydream about a certain supple human being with that  _witch_  skulking about, annoying the living daylights out of him? His mother, Rowena, was about an inch away from being kicked out of his court, or worse - killed. He was growing tired of her bothersome nagging.

Crowley's tired eyes opened, and he sent the red-headed bitch a flash of his demonic eyes hoping that it would scare her away. But, he should have known she wouldn't be swayed by such scare tactics; she hardly even flinched as she picked an imaginary piece of lint off her dress, which today was a deep shade of crimson lined with beads and charms.

"Yes, mother?" Crowley spoke through his teeth as he sat up in his chair and languidly crossed his legs. Crowley didn't think himself to be a short man, even if reality stated he was, and therefore never bore the posture of one. He was nothing but graceful in each movement. The king of hell internally smirked as he remembered Amelia's gaze as he had been seated across her in the forest of her mind. She'd watched him with such curiosity, along with a side of animosity to boot. It was all but obvious that she was amazed by the grace he donned. Amelia's expressions had reminded him of prey, timidly watching the predator. The question was in her eyes, he could see, was whether she would be greeted with death if she didn't run away in time.

As Crowley's fingers stroked beard, he wondered what she was doing at this moment, and that agitated him a little bit. Why on Earth was he worried about an insignificant human? Especially one that was an accomplice to the Winchesters? And even worse... he pondered if she was thinking of him at this very moment now, too.

"What's got you so… moody today? You seem rather thoughtful,  _Fergus._ " Her snide comment, spoken in her rich Irish accent, continued to do nothing but piss him off. How he wanted to just throw her off the edge of the Earth and never look back – but he was never able to. Seemed he had too much pity for his horrible witch of a mother. And there was the matter of her usefulness... even if her loyalty only belonged to herself. He knew his mother was a firm believer of the phrase "me, myself, and I". But where Crowley was concerned, she'd lend a less than an eager hand in exchange for some material things, and magical artifacts. He didn't really give a damn what she did with them, so long as she didn't interfere in his business with it.

"Just a busy day." He replied, watching his court come in, all hands available were stacked with papers hidden in manilla folders, or catalogs tucked neatly in leather bound books. He let out a deep sigh, which was only audible to him and his mother as she took a seat next to him as per usual. She might've been a thorn in his side, but she was damn good at keeping his egg-headed demon employees in line. Crowley knew how much she enjoyed being in charge of everyone, and if kept her from scheming behind his back, then so be it.

Crowley couldn't really say it was a busy day, as they went over the same nonsense they did every day. Soul count this, soul count that. Where were they housing the new souls, what were they going to do if there wasn't enough room? Same questions, different amounts of numbers. His fingers twitched as he longed for the work day to be over.

He wanted to visit his dove again.

 _His dove_.

He let those two words roll over on his tongue for a moment, savoring them. How could he even take joy in that thought? She wasn't his, and he knew that. Amelia might've been wont to sleep with him, but it would be impossible to pull her away from the Winchester's. They'd already informed her of who he really was, and what it was he did for a living. Such an innocent woman would never let the King of Hell himself pull her down into the depths of sin. It was folly to even dream of it.

But again, there was the one missing link to what had him so star stuck over Amelia. Who was she? Who had she been, even? Or better yet, was the question, who will she be?

The biggest question of them all, Crowley maliciously smiled to himself as the court continued to yammer on in the background, was how could he use Amelia to his advantage?

* * *

Crowley watched as his dove skulked about the forest of her mind. She was once again clad in that beautiful gown of white. His eyes were pleased to see that it still clung to her hips before it gracefully drifted down beneath her. As he watched her, like the predator he was, he idly wondered if she had been told how it was he'd come to be here in her intriguing mind. Did Amelia now know the truth, that he'd used the power of possession to invade her? Or did she still believe this was a land of make believe he'd been able to create?  Whatever she thought, he knew the truth.

And how damn angry he'd been when he'd arrived here, after finding a small crack in the Winchester's carefully laid wards, and anti-demon symbols - which happened to be Amelia's room. He'd been more than happy that he'd been so lucky to sneak right into her room, where she peacefully slept. But, it wasn't his intentions to speak with her, really, he told himself. Albeit wanting to explore her depths, sexually or not, Crowley had come or something a little more pressing.

The demon tablet.

Those damn Winchester's had managed to nab it from one of his hideouts. Crowley wasn't even sure how they had managed it, with as much protection as he had over it. Rowena had even placed a few charms on it making it more than impossible for a mortal to touch it without burning. But he remembered how resourceful those two blundering idiots were, and he was sure they'd found some way to undo any curses or spells placed over it.

The point being, Crowley had intended on using Amelia's body as a vessel to find what was his.

And of course, as per usual, he was met with resounding disappointment.

Whatever the hell was holding onto her soul wouldn't allow him to take possession of her. But dammit all to hell, he was more than just a little peeved that they'd taken the bloody thing from him. His plans were nothing without it. And he'd move heaven and hell to get it back. If it meant using his precious little dove, then so be it. The King of Hell's job was more important than a small human life, no matter how mouth-watering, desirable, or delectable it was.

"Crowley, I know you're there." Amelia's voice, light as bells, pierced the silence of the make-believe woods. He smiled at her use of his name, once again sizing her up. Oh, how he adored the way the material of her gown clung to her plump assets. The very sight of it had arousal pooling deep in Crowley's loins.

How on Earth was he supposed to resist this... this tempting little dove? Gods, it drove him barking mad watching her walk so gently across the forest. It was intoxicating - the way her long, beautiful eyelashes wavered as she searched for him. The curve of those luscious, red lips that were begging to be kissed with his own. And after knowing what was hidden under the satin of her dress… it would be impossible to resist her. Maybe even impossible to user her as a pawn... Crowley shoved that thought aside, as it wasn't the time for it yet. Now he smiled and hesitated in bringing himself forward to her. Once again, he thought to himself the simile of him being the predator, and she the prey.

"Come on now, man. I don't have all night, and as much as I love this dress and this little 'enchanted woods' setting my mind has created, I would really like to go to bed!" She had stopped walking, and flung her arms in a tantrum motion and groaned. Crowley chuckled lightly at the sight and continued to hide in the depths of the woods.

"Alright, look. Fun and games are over. I need your help, you asshole. If I didn't have to be here, I wouldn't! Sam and Dean gave me one of this cute anti-possession charm thingies, and buster brown, I am not afraid to use it!" He ignored her quips, as enraging as they might've been... and a broad smile outshone the amused one he'd already been wearing. _Amelia needed his help?_

Light bulbs flashed everywhere in his mind.

A deal.

He could make a deal with her. His help in exchange for… hers. She could get him the demon tablet. Crowley mentally gave himself a pat on the back. He was a bloody genius, he was. Whatever she wanted, she could have. And then he could get on with his plan, and all of that.

Crowley materialized in front of his dove in an instant, and she yelped and almost fell back. His arm quickly snaked behind her waist, grabbing her so that she didn't fall, and pulled her against him. Amelia's eyes, the little cobalt orbs of brave innocence that they were, locked into his for a moment, and again he felt the need she created. That very need that swelled in the deepest part of his being, screaming at him to claim her then and there. It would be so easy, he thought, to tear that gorgeous gown off of her, and bend her over... and show her just how he got the name of King.

As his perverted thoughts ran amuck in his mind, Amelia's eyes searched his, as if she were looking for something. His soul, perhaps? Ha, as if he had one. He could hear whispers around him, which he knew were her thoughts. It wasn't really her mind, that they were in, so to speak. But a projection of her soul, almost. In most mortal souls, it wasn't hard to be able to listen to their innermost thoughts. So it came as no surprise when he could faintly make out what the whispers were. The small voices, all in the tone of Amelia's light tone, were reciting the memories of the night they'd shared before... and how conflicted she was, deciding whether or not to kick him out, or simply let Crowley have his way with her.

A slow, deliberate smirk graced his lips as his eyes continued to gaze into hers. And Gods, it didn't take long for her to realize that she was the source of his amusement. Amelia shoved him away and slapped a hand across his broad chest.

"It's rude to listen to people's thoughts, you know! And to spook the living daylights out of them!" She angrily leered at him, pointing a finger in his direction. Normally, Crowley would've taken offense. No one dared to be so downright disrespectful to him, he thought, as he scrunched his nose at her. But then a smile spread across his lips. He was befuddled with amusement by this adorable little dove. She thought she was so powerful, so… immortal. But she wasn't, and he knew that he, the King of Hell, could break her with the might of only two fingers. He'd have to remind her of that later, he told himself. However, now did not seem the time to do so. There was so much more to do here than simply make her submit to him. No matter how pretty of a thought that was.

"You need my help? I am but your humble servant, my delectable pet." Crowley did a little bow to her, which to his delight, caused her delicate cheeks to flush a bright crimson red. "By the way, have I told you how stunning you look in that gown? It suits you… cream white… like a dove." His good mood allowed him to waggle his eyebrows at her, in the attempts humor her. He'd yet to see a smile on her breathtaking face.

Unfortunately, all he was given was a deep scowl. But it did nothing to tarnish her beauty, he saw. Gods, how was this woman so able to make his heart (what bit of it he had, he would point out) to flutter with excitement.

"All of your little flirtatious marks aside,  _your majesty_ , yes I do require your help." She placed her hands on her supple hips and continued to glower at him.

Crowley sighed, he wanted to chastise Amelia for her attitude but enjoyed how blunt she was. Beating around the bush was a tiresome event, and after all was said and done here, he had much to do. Like devising a plan for her to retrieve the invaluable tablet that had been stolen from him. Crowley nonchalantly waved a hand in the air, and once again materialized appropriate seating for the two of them. This time, in the form of a lush, deep velvet green loveseat.

She eyed the loveseat, as he took a step back to graciously sit in it. He knew he looked all the part of a king, and her, a peasant asking a favor of him. But from the whispers that came from the surrounding woods, it seemed as if she had qualms about sitting in a seat that was so intimate. Crowley raised a bushy brow at her and waited for Amelia to make up her mind. The King of Hell didn't like waiting, as he had little patience.

A sigh now came from his dove, and she seated herself next to Crowley, scooting as far as possible away from him against the arm of the chair while maintaining a position that let her be face to face with him.

"Well, dove?" Crowley's eyebrow remained high on his head, still waiting for a demand of help from him. He started counting in his head, doing his best to keep his patience.

By the time he got to fifteen, she'd finally gathered her words. "I need you to take me to Hell."

To Hell? Why on Earth... ah, yes. He remembered her curiosity over the murder of her father. Crowley had already known which archangel he'd been speaking of the night before when she'd bombarded him with questions. Lucifer, he knew, was trying to snake a finger in the cracks of his cage into the mortal world. Many of his legions were known disciples of Lucifer's, and they'd do anything to restore him to power and usurp Crowley. Unfortunately, it was beyond him to mend the little holes in the Cage that allowed him to do so. He'd simply destroyed all those who he'd found guilty of treason. But Crowley wouldn't let on to Amelia that he barely knew the extent of Lucifer's plan. He'd thought of it as nothing more than trying to spring himself out of confinement.

"To Hell, and why is that?" He mustered as much innocence as he could to fool her. "You want to spend more time with me, is that it?" Crowley's hand reached across and gently placed it on one of her ample thighs that were hidden beneath her gown. Much to his surprise, he didn't pull away from or so much as smack him away.

"I need to see an archangel, the one named Lucifer. You know, Satan?" Crowley found entertainment in Amelia's expressions as she spoke, which always seemed to be excited, and spirited. "Wait - do you actually know him?"

Crowley sputtered out a laugh at that. Gods, how his dove made him feel full of mirth. "Yes, trust me, I know him. I suppose, with a bit of effort on my part, I can bring you down there." He told her truthfully. It wouldn't be that hard to take her to Hell, and it would only require minimal precautions to ensure that Lucifer would not harm her. A feeling... something unfamiliar tangibly hummed in his chest. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but he knew that he wouldn't allow Lucifer to harm Amelia. He would protect her.

_Bah, silly emotions._

"You will?" Amelia beamed at him, both of her soft hands clutching one of his own. Again, another pang of something unfamiliar lingered in his chest. It had been so long since anything in the world had struck a chord with his untouched emotions. It felt... too human, to him. Crowley mentally shook it off and tried to squash the rising emotions he felt towards (or for) Amelia.

"For a price, dove." His hand removed itself and settled it once again on her thigh. The only feeling he couldn't get rid of was that of undying lust he felt towards her. Gods, just from touching her, over the softness of her dress, he was getting a hardon.

"Of course... can't just do it out of the kindness of your... heart?" She pondered that thought for a moment and then waved her hand in the air to dismiss it. "What is it that you want?"

 _You,_ he couldn't help but think to himself,  _Stark naked, sprawled out and screaming my name until you're hoarse with desire..._

"Let's say that you owe me a favor, which I will reserve the right to retrieve at any time," Crowley spoke slowly, standing up as he did so so that he could stand tall in front of Amelia. He had decided it best not to let her on that he wanted the tablet, lest she knew what it was and would refuse to help him. Of course, he could devise another plan to get it, but this seemed the easiest of all routes. "And if you were to... decide to go back on the deal, you would pay with your soul instead. So there is no breaking the deal, pet."

She chewed on that for a moment, as he picked a piece of lint of off his coat and flicked it into the wind. Crowley didn't blame her for taking her time with this decision. Should she choose to not hold up her end of the bargain, which he wondered if she truly would, her soul would be his. Which would be an equally well-spent deal, he thought.

"Can we add a few sub-terms?" Her voice pierced his thoughts, and his eyes narrowed on the woman in front of him.

"Such as...?"

"First, whatever it is I'm doing does not physically harm the Winchester's in any way. I will not hurt them - they took me in... I would rather give my soul up than try to hurt them." Confidence looked good on her, muddled with that little bit of human affliction he knew to be compassion. Crowley contemplated agreeing to these so-called sub-terms. If he agreed to him, he would be held to the same binding that she was, and he'd lose his status in Hell and be tortured for the rest of his days.

He sighed, reluctantly. "Fine. Next?"

"Second, whatever it is, I don't want it to be horrifically bad. Nothing that would tarnish my morality." Stealing the demon tablet would be bad for the mortal world, but not for her, he told himself. So there was a loophole to that one.

"You have my word." Crowley's lips turned into a smirk, as he awaited her next term. Normally, people trying to make wiggle room in his agreements would be a no-go. But he desperately needed the tablet, and he thoroughly enjoyed her semantics.

"And this favor you'll ask of me... you're not going to ask for my soul, are you? Because if that's what you're planning, I want to end this here."

"You're more than just a pretty soul, dove." Crowley's smirk deepened, his hand reaching down to take one of hers in his. He pulled her up off the loveseat and pulled Amelia close against him.

"I bet you say that to all the girls." Amelia retorted, tilting her head back just a bit so that their lips weren't so close to each other. He knew that deep down inside, all she wanted was to kiss the life out of him. To let their bodies intertwine until they became one; one body that breathed the same air, blood pumping in the same veins, and hearts beating the same beat. Crowley knew it was wrong to even indulge in that type of thought - she would be nothing but trouble for him, he chastised himself.

"So do we have a deal then, Mister King of Hell?" Her words were as smooth as marble, caressing his ear in a seductive manner. Amelia really was trying her best to get this little agreement in motion, he noted. It didn't seem often that she donned a promiscuous attitude. Albeit arousing, it didn't suit her. Crowley confessed to himself that he enjoyed the adorable bravado that pretensed her innocence, opposed to the sultry confidence that all but made her unattractive to him.

However, he knew how to get a rise out of her, and bring her back to earth.

"We do, my little dove... but now it has to be signed, and notarized." Before she could pester him with a question, his lips dipped down and claimed her own. Crowley smiled to himself, knowing she was all kinds of flustered, and shy whilst pressed against him. She was the innocent little dove that he desired. But now, Amelia stiffened in surprise and placed a hand on his chest as if she were going to beat him off - only to instead grip his coat and pull him closer. Her mouth was hot and hungry, desperate for his lips' affections. Had she not gotten enough of him the night before, he wondered? How was it that Amelia, his little dove, could be so lustful?

Crowley could feel the binding of their agreement wrap around them, like invisible cords, as their kiss deepened. It bothered him none. Crowley knew that he wouldn't back out on her agreement, and neither would she. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know she wanted nothing more than to know what Lucifer was plotting - and he was curious as well. What was it that the archangel more commonly known as the Devil had in store for his dove, asides from the murder of her parent? Was she more than just a casualty in his carefully laid plans?

The king let those thoughts drift away, as Amelia's lips continued to dance around his own. Her fingers slowly crawled up the broadness of his chest until they reached their goal. They stretched, and caressed, tangling themselves into the little bit of hair that he had. He wanted so much more than just these little wonton kisses. He wanted to devour her - her mind, body, and soul.

But there was so much to do now, and as mentioned before. The King of Hell had little to do with the mortal sense of patience.

Reluctantly, he pulled away from his dove, keeping his hands tightly pressed against her back. Amelia looked confused, her little brows pulled into a tight line as her eyes searched his. He felt a rush of affection for her, and amusement seeing that she had enjoyed their kiss (and agreement binding) as much as he did.

"Come dove, we have much to do. It's time to wake up."


	12. Glass Cats

_You'll barely even know I'm here, dove. I promise._

More than creeped out by that statement, I gave my shoes a final tug until they were snug on my feet. Disgruntled was a severe lack of better wording for what I was at this point. having been woken up, even though it was apparently after ten AM. It felt as if I'd only slept for a mere few hours.

What really had my gears grinding now, was that a certain demon thought that he was welcome tagging along inside of my mind.

_Oh come on now, sunshine, it's not so bad._

"If you don't hush, I swear to Christ I'm going to grab the charm and you will never see me again." I hissed at the voice in my head. I almost wished I hadn't, considering that speaking aloud to a voice in my head had the word "mental" written all over it. Me, talking to a voice in my head. A crazy woman talking to the King of Hell inside of her mind. If anyone heard about that, I'd be locked up before you could say "demonic possession".

 _I have to give you directions, and I can't very well do that without being right with you. Now, c'mon now, dove. Let's get moving, I'm not getting any younger._  His tone was very impatient, and it was apparent that he was very anxious for us to be about our business. I guess he was a busy man with many things to do.

Internally, I rolled my eyes at him. Who was he to think he could give me commands? I mean, sure I didn't truly have to go find Lucifer, and if anything I could've found another way to get to him. However, Crowley seemed the safest route seeing as he was eager to please me in the event he might get to engage in late night activity with me.

I wasn't able to shake the strange feeling I was having...about letting him into my mind, that was. Given the whole situation was a far cry from just odd. I couldn't necessarily say I could feel him inside of my mind; I don't think that those kind of sensations are remotely possible, yet I was fully aware that there was another person sharing my body. It certainly wasn't a welcomed feeling.

 _Not welcomed - eh?_ I could hear him chuckling softly in the back of my mind.  _Only yesterday did you want to be filled with me... in more ways than one._

"That's it!" I grabbed my head as if it would silence him. I could feel my cheeks flaming from a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Anger from the sheer fact that he was so cocksure to say such a thing while he was guest in my own head; the embarrassment flooded in my ears as well as slightly wisps of memories from the first he night visited me flashed in the back of my mind. I was sure the latter was no thanks to Crowley.

I tried to gather my thoughts amidst the chaos of my emotions. "Just because you're in my mind does not mean that you get to say things like that, or even make assumptions." Despite the attempt at collecting myself, I could feel the fire of my fury pooling in the pit of my stomach. Without any further hesitation, I made a beeline for my nightstand where the anti-possession charm sat. All I had to do was touch it, and he'd be gone without another word.

"You're going to tell me where to meet you - in person. I'm not playing any more of these games with you, dammit. No more snarky remarks, no trying to jog my memory of us getting more than intimate. I have shit to do." I spoke through my teeth as I finally reached the nightstand, the ugly little charm in front of me. "I could always let the boys know. Who do you think they'll be pissed at more?"

A defeated sigh whispered in my mind, and I knew I had won the little power struggle. I could sense he wasn't about to give up this. The chase of not only myself but whatever came with it after we spoke to Lucifer.

Odd.  _Whatever came after..._

I realized these were no longer my thoughts - but his. But before I could push further to see if I could hear more, I could feel him retreat further away from my mind's reach.

 _Aha... not so close._ Again, the smug smirk. I really disliked being able to feel each little movement of his.  _I suppose you are right, love. I've disrespected you now, haven't I? There is no need for that little anti-possession charm. That wouldn't be a fun experience for either one of us. I'll exit myself without you feeling a thing._

"So, what's the plan then if you're going to leave for now?" I asked, sitting down on my bed now. I had to concede that I wasn't really interested in feeling him leave my body.

_In the neighboring town, there is an antique shop. The only one in town, so it won't be hard to find. Don't leave me waiting, my dove._

I felt a weight being lifted out of me for a moment, and then as I tried to reach out to him with my mind again - he was gone.

I flung my body back on the bed, breathing in deeply as I rubbed my tired face. "I think I'm in way over my head."

* * *

Ten minutes later I found myself in a bit of a bind. Although I had a place to be, how in the hell was I going to get there? Sam nor Dean, especially Dean, was going to allow me to leave this place unattended. Certainly, if they knew who I was going to meet.

I was going to have to lie. Lord, what a terrible liar I was.

Not that I couldn't create a good lie, because I could. There were plenty of times as a teenager that I'd come up with plenty of little fibs to get my way, or to be where I wasn't supposed to be. In the end, I always felt guilty and ashamed of having told a lie.

This is important though, I told myself. I needed to speak with Lucifer, seeing as it could be the ticket to unlocking my own secrets.

My train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a knock on my door. Without thinking I opened it, to find Sam standing there.

"Are you alright? I thought I heard you yelling." His eyes were concerned, his words full of worry as the former examined my face, and then past me to look about my room, as if there were someone there.

I bit my lip for a moment, but an idea brushed my tired, nervous mind. "I think I'm just going a little crazy... I haven't been out in the real world for a while." Oh for Christ's sake - I could've come up with a better lie than that, couldn't I?

"I know that it's been tough, but... it's still dangerous." Sam's eyes narrowed down at me. I forgot how intimidating these men were, being so much taller than I. It was hard to keep the charade I was building on track. I could feel the guilt snowballing, and I felt like I was going to puke. Stand up to the king of Hell? Check. Stand up to a warm, friendly Sam? Nope.

"I'm well aware - but isn't that what all the training I've had has been for? To protect myself?" I tried to sprinkle in a little bit more confidence into my snowballing lie. I prayed it would help, and I promised myself after this was all over I would make the best damn meal for these boys as I possibly could.

It was Sam now who bit his lip, fully appreciating my point as he thought hard about that fact. Even if this was all a facade, I was right. There was no reason that I couldn't leave the bunker to run into town for a couple of hours to feel a little better. Hell, even I wanted to just do that. I didn't want to meet Crowley and do all of these crazy things. I wouldn't have minded some time out to grab a coffee and do a little window shopping to clear my head.

"You have a point, Amelia... I'd ask Dean, but he went out with Cas for a bit." He paused for a moment, clearly still thinking. "Alright. I'll let you take one of the other cars we have in the garage. But you have to promise you will be no more than two hours, and you'll at least text me to know you're alright."

Relief washed over me as he spoke, and I couldn't help but grin. "I promise - trust me, I'm not looking for any trouble while I'm out."

I'd never felt so bad for lying in my life.

* * *

Even though I was off to meet the devil himself, I found myself in a pleasant mood. The car they'd let me borrow must've been something they had acquired over the years of hunting, and it really wasn't anything special. Some 90's truck that sounded awful - but I'd never felt so alive as I did now. The windows all the way down, the warm arm flowing in from them fueling my good disposition.

But even as the sunshine graced my pale skin, warming me to my bones, the inclination of leaving arose in the back of my mind. Leaving, and never looking back.

Sam had given me plenty of cash to splurge on myself while I was out, enough that I could've booked a ticket to a place far away and start a new life leaving all of this madness behind. Life wasn't meant to be lived like this, I told myself. Constantly terrified of everything that went bump in the night and the dangerous men who made my knees go weak.

Life was supposed to be so... so simple. A good job, a husband, kids... why couldn't I put my life back on its original tracks?

It was folly to think that way, however. I should've known from the moment that the Winchesters' had stepped into my life that nothing would ever be so simple again. I was a fool to think otherwise. All of what I'd hope to accomplish in life wouldn't be so closely within reach again. I would be too paranoid, too aware of every little thing going around me that I would drive myself batshit insane and ultimately turn back to this new life I had become a part of. There was no chance for me without the Winchester's or Crowley.

And I couldn't go on knowing that an archangel in hell, locked in a damn cage, might know more about me than I did myself.

I cut the radio up, hit the pedal a little harder, and let those thoughts of abandoning everything fall behind me each mile that I drove.

One major hunt through town, stopping for directions, and a latte later I'd finally found the antique shop that Crowley had told me about. It wasn't much, a small building with a faded "open" sign on the front. The storefront window was faded, and had worn with time, but it did have three beautiful little blossomed trees in front of it, offering the store a mystical kind of shading.

As I slipped out of the truck I wondered just how old this building was, and why I was meeting him here of all places. An antique shop? Or any shop for that matter. I was curious why something more mundane was easier for him rather than sending me to a grand entrance to the gates of Hell itself.

All uncertainties aside, I stepped into the shop, a bell signaling my presence to the shop's clerk who I did not see. Inside of the tiny little antique shop were rows of items ranging from clocks to silverware, dolls to lamps. On the walls sat old paintings, a few of them looked like knock-offs that were being sold at an unsettling high price. Nothing really caught my eye, as I pretended to look about the shop as if I'd miss anything important. I turned my attention to the rows of shelves that sat in the middle of the shop, picking up random pieces of ancient doodads as I kept up the farce that I was a potential buyer.

"Amelia?" I nearly dropped a porcelain cat as a tiny, cracked voice called for me. Carefully setting the feline back down on the shelf, I raised my head to find a small elderly woman smiling at me from behind a cracked counter. Her winter white hair had been pulled into a messy bun, and her wrinkled face was nothing but friendly.

"Y-yes ma'am?" I tried to compose myself as I offered a genuine smile of my own.

"He'll be with you shortly." Was all she said before turning her back to me, entering a door that must've let back to the shop's storage. How cryptic, I noted grimly.

I didn't even try to reply to her, I only stared in surprise, surprise that Crowley would have a minion in a small town like this. Then again, it shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did. Crowley and the boys were not on the best of terms at the present time from what I understood, and I'm sure he had spies crawling all over the place with Sam and Dean only being five miles away.

"Who's waiting for you?"

My heart sank to the bottom of my boots. I was getting tired of people sneaking up on me, and it didn't give me any more comfort that it wasn't the little old lady from before. I would've at least tolerated her presence.

Now it was an unfriendly face I was met with, one with accusations written all over his plain face. His arms hung freely from his sides as he took a step closer to me. As he sauntered forward, I took a few uneasy steps back. Everything would be ruined now that he knew I was here. Crap dammit, I thought he'd been off with Dean all of this time.

Had Sam lied to me? Had this all been a trap for Crowley?

My heart sank to the floor at the thought of anyone getting their hands on him. No one was going to hurt him. Wait.. no... those thoughts weren't right. I shocked myself at how bluntly possessive and protective I was becoming of the damned demon. He wasn't mine, and there wasn't anything more between us than a spark of lust.

"Castiel! What a... fun surprise." Even with the notion that this could all be a ploy to lure Crowley out, I pretended to be dumb for a moment. I knew it wouldn't last long; Castiel had obviously heard the short conversation between the shopkeeper and myself. It was evident by the look of contempt on his face.

"Who is waiting for you, Amelia? I did not take you to be someone who was into antiquing. I was most surprised to see that you had walked into this establishment of all places. For someone like yourself, I would have expected the shoe boutique just down the way." He tilted his head slightly, his eyes still narrowed down on me.

"What do you know about me, Castiel? Obviously nothing." I spat back, flames of anger rolling down my spine. I loathed this man, piece of shit angel - whatever he was. It was bad enough that every fiber of my being felt repulsed by him only on instinct. But he gave reason to it.

"You did not answer my question."

"Because she doesn't need to, my winged friend." From behind the counter, Crowley's rich voice filled the small shop. "What business I have with our little dove here is none of your concern. Why don't you tottle back off to your masters, hm?" I didn't have to turn to know he was wearing his trademark grin.

"Business...? I do not understand. Amelia, come, that  _thing_  is dangerous." Castiel's hand barely even brushed my shoulder before my own hand shot out and shoved him away. Well... shoved was apparently not what I had done. I hadn't even realized that I had reacted until a loud crash shook the entire building.

Castiel's body flew angrily across the room, taking shelves of knick-knacks with him as it finally hit the ground with a thud, small items coming down with a crash around him.

"Bravo, my dove." I turned to Crowley to find a wide smile of approval on his lips.

How had I just... I turned back to Castiel, who remained unmoving. How had I just shoved a being who was supposed to be more powerful than anything on earth with such ease? As if he'd been a rag doll? My body shook as I tried to wrap my head around the possibilities that my own two hands held.

With force, Castiel pushed the shelf that had fallen on top of him away. Gradually he rose up off of the floor, standing on broken bits of bric-a-brac. A few cuts stretched across his face, no doubt from the amount of glass that had gone across the room with him. With anger written all over his face he began to lunge at me. I was still uneasy about what was going on, but I would hold my ground. Whether I was scared of what I could or not - I wasn't afraid to hulk punch the fucker again if need be.

"I'm sorry Castiel, I didn't mean to- I didn't know that I could-"

"H-how... I knew that you were inhuman. A monster, even -" He'd barely even gotten an inch of front of me before a bright light consumed him. And then he vanished into thin air.

"What the hell?"Confused, I took a step back turning to Crowley.

"Don't worry, dove. I just sent him away for a little while. No harm done to the boys' pet." He pulled his hand from the wall, a simple ward drawn with what I was hoping was his own blood painted on it. After a few moments of studying it, I finally recognized it as an angel ward.

I sighed, I was glad to know that no real harm had come to him. I knew that even if Castiel and I didn't see eye to eye, that he and the brothers' were close. I would feel horrible if something had happened to him.

But it had come close...

_A monster._

The word repeated itself over and over in my head. Had I really seemed a monster to Castiel? Perhaps he was right, considering that I had nearly sent him through the shop's window without more than a thought. Could I have done worse... what could've truly happened here? What if I had killed him.

But more reason for me to make this journey. Only more reason that I needed to talk to Lucifer himself. I needed to know what he knew. And if he knew what exactly I was.

Walking through the shambles of the shop, I stopped in front of Crowley, who still wore the smug look on his handsome face. He'd seemed completely unbothered by my little performance, if anything he seemed pleased. I could see a fire burning behind his eyes that before I would've mistaken for lust, but now, I was feeling uneasy. No man, or demon I suppose, could be in this just for sex. He could get that with any other woman he so desired without so much of a peep.

So why me?

With that thought lingering in the back of my mind, I took another step forward towards this dangerous creature. Perhaps he wanted to be a part of whatever the secrets beneath my soul were. Perhaps he intended to use me. I had felt such a thing when he and I were joined earlier.

I felt kind of crazy for thinking that, though. I wasn't even sure if I believed there was more to me than what meets the eye. Sure, I'd fended myself off from two incredibly powerful men - but that could just be luck right? A strength I'd never known I had till now. Adrenaline, even.

"Amelia?" Crowley's lips turned over into a frown as his fiery eyes scanned my face. "You're alright? You aren't hurt now are you, dove?" His hand reached out to cup my chin, turning it up so that my eyes locked with his. It was no longer fire that filled those pools of mystery, but worry. I now felt guilty that I'd thought he'd been playing me the fool to get what he wanted.

Maybe his interest was in more than just all of this nonsense - that he really wanted me.

"After slamming an angel across the room? Destroying this poor lady's shop? Yeah, just peachy." I sighed, but leaned into his touch, not letting my gaze waver from his. I didn't want to think the worst of him, and even if it were true, I didn't want him to know that I was aware of it. I didn't want anything to get in the way of my mission.

"Don't fret, darling. miss Gwen will have each and every one of her fine items replaced just as they were." He gave me a small smile before letting go of my chin, instead turning to the door to that I had assumed was a storage room. What did he mean? Did the two of them have sort of a deal? Even though I felt a great deal of shame for destroying her musty, yet charming shop, I turned my attention back to Crowley.

I looked at the door and then to the man next to me with confusion. Did he mean for us to go in there? That this door was the entrance to hell? In an old antique shop?

He held an arm out for me, a gentleman's gesture. "Shall we, dove?"

I hesitated as I looked once more to the door, and then to his extended arm. I knew this was no game, and this demon was certainly no true gentleman. Without further thought I slipped my arm through his, his hand cradling mine in a protective manner.

This was truly the point of no return, I realized, as the door opened. Of course, it was no storage room, and how wrong I'd been of that.

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly I'd like to place a setting around this story, it is slightly outside of the timeline, with a few canonical events that have still taken place. (I.E, the mark of Cain being removed, Leviathans, ect.) But I'd like to stress this is before Amara, or the reveal of Chuck. With that said, it's more or less a more peaceful time for the Winchester's, except Crowley and the boys are once again on ugly terms. 
> 
> -  
> I've had this story posted to FFN a year or so ago, and unfortunately I took a small break from it. I'm now in the process of picking it back up, with the ends closely within sights. I'm hoping to post a chapter once a week, usually on the weekends.


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